


On New Foundations

by moreless



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armitage Hux/Unlimited Power, Assassination attempts, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bottom Armitage Hux, Canon-Typical Violence, Chancellor Hux, Competent Hux, Competent Kylo Ren, Coruscant (Star Wars), Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hux vs feelings, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Lore, Lightsaber Battles, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Power Dynamics, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Swearing, Top Kylo Ren, Trevorrow Script (Duel of the Fates), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreless/pseuds/moreless
Summary: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has seized Coruscant. Under the Supreme Leader’s direction, newly appointed Chancellor Hux is tasked to bring order and peace to planets long neglected by the New Republic, a show of the first Galactic Order's benevolent dictatorship.While Ren hunts down the last remnants of the Resistance, Hux revels in his newfound power as Chancellor, even as he slowly grows tired of his leash...
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 209
Collections: Kylux Big Bang 2020





	1. high with a loaded smile

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing [M.Lang](https://twitter.com/PranShashi)! 🖤🧡

Hux hated the senator from Arkanis. Anbelin Lun was no Carise Sindian, and the government of his home planet had somehow chosen to recompense for her part in the reveal of Leia Organa’s heritage by voting this decrepit Republic stooge to her seat in the senate. Senator Lun peered at Hux through his beady, myopic eyes, and Hux found himself reminded unpleasantly of those many old Imperials, his father’s cohort, old and blinkered men and women who had clustered together like flies around a septic wound. Lun eyes too, travelled up and down, taking him in, measuring him and finding him wanting. The nerve of the man. Hux stonily met his gaze until Lun squirmed in his seat and looked away.

Leeches, the lot of them. And as chancellor, Hux had so much blood to give. Or so they thought, as they slimed their way up to him, these politicians, begging and wheedling, promising alliances and votes and support that they knew he needed. It was a sham, all of it. The First Order was now the New Order, though the absurd rebranding by Ren did little to hide the fact not much about the structure and hierarchy had changed. The Supreme Leader still ruled from the shadows and Hux...Hux was still here, carrying out his orders. He’d been the face of the First Order, and now he was the face of the New Order, and quite frankly he was beginning to tire of it. At least as a general he’d been able to order the reconditioning or execution of mutinous subordinates. Here, he had to listen to men like Lun simper, and then actually acquiesce to some of their demands.

“You see, Chancellor,” Lun was saying, “we don’t have the ships and our people are untrained. And we’d rather not rely on mercenaries.”

“The Imperial Academy on Arkanis used to be the training grounds of some of the finest officers the First Order produced. You’re telling me when the New Republic took the planet, nobody saw a need for Arkanis to maintain their own military? Not even a security force?” Of course it had been just like the New Republic to select that kind of punishment, to cow and defang a people, reassuring them of safety and security with a few pithy words, only to render those promises useless with their ridiculous Military Disarmament Act.

Lun’s lips thinned. “I’m aware of your history with–"

“My history with Arkanis has nothing to do with it,” Hux cut in. “Your local government put the lives of its citizens in the hands of a corrupt leadership, more obsessed with funneling its wealth into the Core worlds than into the continued growth and stability of the Rim Worlds that were seemingly such a valuable part of it.”

“With all due respect, Chancellor,” said Lun, upper lip curling, “Arkanis was doing rather well before your superweapon blew up the Hosnian System.”

Hux fought back a sneer of his own. To respond to Lun’s petty jabs was to descend to his level, and for the sake of what was a blatant lie. Sindian’s fall from grace had preceded Arkanis’; though she’d never been officially connected to the First Order, not the entirety of the Senate was made of fools. Arkanis had been hit with sanction after sanction, trade tariffs increased, and certain alliances had been ended completely. Left to flounder, no longer the shining gem of the Outer Rim, Arkanis had been left mostly to its own devices. Its people had put up no resistance when the First Order had swept in to blockade and then capture their sector, and now Lun was sitting in his office, with the audacity to blame Hux for his planet’s condition?

Hux had few memories of Arkanis. For the first five years of his life, all he’d known had been his father’s mansion and the marsh that had stretched beyond it. The Arkanis Academy itself remained a mystery to him; until he’d dragged him off planet with him, Brendol had shown little interest in his bastard’s existence, let alone education. Hux’s clearest memory of the planet was the night he’d been forced to flee with his father. It had rained, as it always had, and he remembered being grateful that it’d hidden his tears from Brendol. The New Republic forces had besieged the planet and seized control of the spaceports, so they’d fled to a hidden hanger several clicks from the house, until Mercurial Swift had come for them. Mud had sucked at his boots. His father has smacked him when he’d stumbled to his knees.

So he held little fondness for his home planet, and Lun’s pleading did even less to tend what scraps he had left. It existed. And right now, it was a key location for the recruitment of new troops, thanks to the New Republic-fostered discontent among its youth. Two decades ago Hux would have sent recruiters down to the planet to forcefully conscript its children to their forces; now half of them were raring to sign up of their own accord. Yet with his luck, nothing ever got that easy for him. In place of dissenters, Hux currently found himself wrapped up in reams of bureaucratic red tape. The Order was supposed to be a functioning government, things had to be done properly. And no Outer Rim planet gave up their resources for nothing. When they bargained, they bargained _hard_.

So he pared his retort down from snide to cutting. “Of course. Arkanis thrived under the generous governance of the New Republic, did it not? Evident by its economic downturn, the unemployment rate, the illiteracy amongst the younger generation—all before the Hosnian Event. You though…” and here he tapped his chin, flicking open with his other hand Lun’s file. “You seemed to be doing pretty well. You Republican friends take care of you?”

Lun glared, his hand tightening on the arms of his seat. He was probably imagining he had them around Hux’s neck. It was a reaction Hux seemed to provoke in many people.

“It’s a shame, having to actually do some work, after spending all your years laying about.” Like those Imperial dinosaurs he’d finally gotten rid of. “You want all these things, Senator Lun, but I must admit, we have other sectors in more dire need than yours.”

“I see,” said Lun silkily, or as much as he could through gritted teeth. “Is not getting rid of these Resistance insurgents within the best interest of the Order?”

“And the quickest way to do that,” said Hux coolly, “would be to glass the entire western continent. New Order Security has pinpointed the majority of their forces hiding out in the Aoxi province. We can have a Star Destroyer there within forty-eight hours. Enough time to evacuate anyone who hasn’t joined up. I’m sure what little security you have left can take care of whatever Resistance stragglers are left after that.”

And he would do it. It’d been an order he’d given many times, with no regret. The fact that he’d grown up in Aoxi, that it was where the Brendol’s Academy and mansion were located (though likely fallen to ruin by now) only sweetened the prospect of blowing it all to hell.

Lun didn’t share Hux’s enthusiasm, his mouth twisting as though he’d bitten on a lemon.

“Those are your people!”

“No. They are no more my people than the rest of the planets under the New Order. Remember, Senator Lun,” he cautioned, “we are not the New Republic. There will be no favouritism here. This is the same deal we gave to Rodia, to Iskalon, to Geonosis. It is your duty to represent the interests of _your_ people.”

When Lun still refused to budge, Hux allowed his stony facade to crack just a slight bit. He found that civilians preferred it when he seemed to let his guard down, as though what snatches of apparent humanity they saw somehow assured them that he had their best interests at heart. So he allowed a frustrated sigh to pass his lips, and rubbed at his temples.

“Look here, Anbelin,” he began again. The Senator’s glass of water was empty, and instead of having the protocol droid refill it, Hux did it himself, refilling his own while he was at it. He took a sip, watching the condensation form on the glass. “What exactly are you asking for?”

“I told you, Chancellor,” said Lun. “A military presence—ground troops,” he added hastily, recalling Hux’s threat. “As well as ships to protect our trade routes.”

“And?” Hux idly swirled the water in his glass, wishing it was something harder. He had some brandy in the nearby sideboard. After Lun was gone, he’d reward himself with some.

Lun hemmed and hawed, and Hux hid his small smile with another sip of water. So they had finally arrived at the crux of the matter. What Lun really, truly desired from him.

“My son,” the older man said finally.

“Your son?” Hux prompted. Lun was well into his sixties, and had several children around the same age as Hux. Some of them had children of their own. But there was Lun’s youngest, the son Hux was sure he was talking about. Twelve, the by blow of an affair with a member of his staff. There’d been a scandal, but it had faded quickly when other matters had proved to be more pressing, and left little to no impact on the Senator’s career.

“He is of age to be recruited, and he’s been talking of joining your lot.” _Your lot_. He looked forward to the day Lun was replaced by someone who actually knew what they were saying. “I request you reject his application, and pass him over in your conscription, Chancellor.”

“Why?” asked Hux, curiosity piqued despite himself. He made a mental note to check again just how much of his personal history had been made available to the public. Surely this sob story about Lun’s bastard wasn’t a mere coincidence.

“It’ll break his mother’s heart.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?” Hux said dispassionately. But he waved his hand, banishing the projections of Lun’s files back to his datapad. “I’ll make a record of your request, and pass it on to General Mitaka. Your mistress can keep her son.” He would have someone keep an eye on the boy regardless. The age of majority on Arkanis was sixteen, if the boy was still keen on joining the military once he was old enough, they’d be ready to find a place for him.

“Thank you,” said Lun, bowing his head, though Hux caught a glimpse of something panicked in his eyes. He’d recognised he’d given away a weakness, but it was too late to walk it back.

“Well then,” he said blithely, enjoying how Lun shrank back at the sudden brightness of his tone. He leaned back in his chair, savouring the small victory. “When can I expect your signature on this accord, Senator? Don’t forget, you have forty-eight hours.”

“Tonight,” muttered Lun, glaring at Hux from under his craggy eyebrows. “No fear, Chancellor, you’ll have your deal by tonight.”

“Excellent,” said Hux, and hammered his fist down on his intercom to summon his aide. Lun shot him another baleful glare as he rose to his feet, but said nothing more as he was escorted from the room.

“Who’s next, Unamo?” Hux asked. Flipping through his calendar revealed his next four hours had been blocked out for a meeting, but no name was attached.

Hestia Unamo nervously licked her lip. She was Nastia Unamo’s daughter, and Hux had taken her on as his aide in part as a favour to her mother, though she’d applied for the position of her own initiative, and her political acumen had caught his eye. “The Supreme Leader, sir.”

Hux looked up sharply from his datapad. “Ren? He’s here, on Coruscant?”

To some extent, Kylo Ren’s first actions as Supreme Leader had been fairly predictable; Hux had known from the start that Ren wasn’t going to be content simply lounging around on Snoke’s throne and barking orders at the New Order military through overcompensatory holos.

Though he hadn’t expected Ren make him Chancellor—in fact towards the beginning, the possibility of being choked to death and jettisoned out an airlock had ranked a lot higher in Hux’s anticipation of their change in status quo—but when it came to his own duties, Ren’s hadn’t changed overly much.

As it was, he remained as much a spectre as Snoke had been, albeit a far deadlier one. His chief goal these days seemed to be to completely exterminate all that was left of the Resistance, and for that reason he was mostly absent from the capital. Most of the everyday citizens of the New Order were hardly aware of his existence, and half the Senate itself seemed to believe Snoke had been replaced completely by Hux, the mysterious new Supreme Leader merely a figurehead. During a rare visit, a tabloid had once identified Ren as Hux’s bodyguard, and Ren, to Hux’s surprise, had objected to none of it, seemingly content to let the rest of the galaxy believe in the fiction. An odd reaction, for someone so needy for attention, but he’d decided not to look a gift fathier in the mouth. Ren being away from Coruscant, and mostly leaving Hux to his own devices suited him just fine.

So Hux didn’t appreciate him suddenly turning up on Coruscant with no notice. “Why was I not made aware of this sooner?”

“Apologies, sir,” said Unamo, back ramrod straight. “The notice came in while you were with Senator Lun.”

Hux hissed out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dammit! Next time, tell me. It doesn’t matter who I’m meeting with, I wish to be alerted at once.”

“Yes, Chancellor.”

“When is he coming?”

She glanced down at her datapad. “In half an hour, sir.”

That left him enough time for a fortifying drink. “You’re dismissed. Make sure no one interrupts us.”

Unamo bowed her head in acknowledgement. The moment the door sealed behind her, Hux stood up from his desk and headed for the sideboard. He disliked drinking in instances such as this, where it was clear even to him that he was using alcohol as a crutch, but he needed it. After the frustrating meeting with Lun, he didn’t trust himself to not carry his anger into his meeting with the Supreme Leader, where it would do him no good whatsoever. Besides, he’d found over the years that keeping a clear head was not a requirement when dealing with Kylo Ren.

He poured himself a finger of Saurian Brandy from the bottle he kept in the sideboard, the seal cracked just about a week ago. He’d hardly made a dent in it, which he quietly congratulated himself for, considering the number of times he’d fantasized about it.

In hindsight though, he reflected, tapping the glass against his teeth, it was a little pathetic that the most satisfaction he seemed to get these days came from praising himself for his own sobriety.

He snorted at the thought, tipped back the brandy then restored the bottle to its shelf. Here he was, chancellor of over a hundred systems, the second most powerful man in the galaxy, and yet what he took the most pride in for the moment was that he was actually drinking responsibly.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow detaching itself from the far wall. Dropping the glass, he spun around, reaching for the modified blaster he still kept at his hip. A habit he refused to relinquish.

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren dropped down into one of the armchairs by the far window of the sitting room. “Put that away.” Hux felt an invisible grip pry his hand from his blaster.

“Fucking Sith hell!” Hux exclaimed. He curled his other hand around the edge of the sideboard instead of clutching at where his heart was hammering away in his chest. Casting his eyes around the room, he tried to pinpoint where the Supreme Leader had suddenly emerged from. There was a secret emergency exit, but it was within Hux’s line of sight, so unless Ren had pushed a particularly powerful Force-suggestion into his head, he would have seen him. And manipulation was out of the question—he’d been subjected to them by Snoke in the past, and they always gave him a terrible headache.

“I’ve been here for a while now,” said Ren. “You never noticed.”

“So you were hiding behind the drapes like a child?” Hux plucked at his sleeves, smoothed out his surcoat, and barely managed to keep from running his hand through his hair; he wanted nothing more than to curl his hands into fists and take a swing at something. He’d managed to rid himself of the bad habit of scratching his palms up, but the nervous energy within him demanded action.

“What plans do you have for Senator Lun’s son?” asked Ren, ignoring him.

So he’d been there a while then. Hux ground his teeth at the thought of Ren lurking about in his office all day, _watching_ him. And he hadn’t noticed _anything_.

“Nothing,” he spat. “The boy’s inconsequential. If he wants to serve the Order when he’s of majority, he’s welcome to.”

“You don’t believe we’ll need him to encourage Lun.”

“Lun will sign the damn deal of his own accord, the man’s not stupid.” He stalked over to Ren, slamming his hands down on the back of another chair. “What the fuck do you care? You’ve apparently been lurking about here all day, if you gave a kriffing batha shit about what Lun’s going to do, you could have potentially involved yourself, Supreme _Leader_.”

“I’m not here for him,” said Ren shortly. He sat in the armchair like it was a throne, arms resting on the plush armrests, legs spread. He gazed up demandingly at Hux, who for a moment wondered if he was expected to kneel. Out of sheer spite, he rounded his chair and threw himself into it, matching Ren’s gaze with a glare of his own.

“So, Supreme Leader,” he began, projecting all his venom into the title. “How may I serve you?”

“Some respect would not go amiss, Chancellor,” said Ren. The fingers of one hand curled, and Hux’s breath hitched, but no further use of the Force was forthcoming. He sucked in a sharp breath, then lowered his gaze to somewhere at the level of Ren’s shoulder.

“To what do I owe the honour of this visit?” Now he spoke in the smooth, cultured voice he reserved for emissaries from important systems. Previously he’d used it when rubbing shoulders with High Command, but never with Ren. He’d appreciated that about Ren, back when they’d worked together on Starkiller Base, that they could speak to each other plainly, even if it often ended in arguments and vicious jibes. But Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was still in part an enigma to Hux, one he was working on deciphering, if only for his own continued survival.

Power revealed, Hux knew that. Now that Ren had free reign to do as he wished, he knew that there would one day be a time when all was laid bare. And desires were weaknesses to be exploited. Hux planned to live long enough to witness it, and then, when the time was right, use every scrap of information he had to rid himself of the man.

Of course he very carefully wasn’t thinking about any of this as he stared absently over Ren’s shoulder, instead focusing his mind on wondering exactly how Ren had concealed himself, if he hadn’t been using the Force. He was a big man, and an impatient child. Sure he hadn’t _actually_ hidden behind the drapes.

“I came in when you were in the ‘fresher,” Ren snapped. “You’re distractible today, and so was Lun. I barely had to suggest the both of you simply not pay attention to the rest of the room.”

Even as he bristled at the implication that Ren had used the Force on him, Hux suppressed a small surge of glee. Obsessing about the most ridiculous things was a good way to keep Ren out of his head. And Ren always acted so emotionally about it, as though the little things Hux cared about were all somehow an affront to him. Well, if he wanted Hux to live rent free in his head, so be it.

“So you heard everything with Lun,” he said. “What do you think we should do with him?”

“That old man?” Ren leaned forward, resting an ankle on his knee. The knees of his leggings were threadbare, pale skin showing through a rip. Hux’s mouth twisted in distaste. He looked like a vagrant. “Do we still need him?”

“We should keep him, for now,” Hux advised. “Electing a new representative at this time, with our grip on Outer Rim still tenuous, isn’t a good idea.”

“We have the ships to demonstrate the full power of our might.”

“One sector at a time,” Hux reminded him flatly. “What’s the point of blowing planets to hell when Resistance insurgents surge in after to take our place?”

“The Resistance,” Ren said slowly. “They’re weakened. They don’t have the people.”

Inasmuch as Hux knew, this was true. The general populace were slowly turning away from the Resistance, no longer trusting they could bring them the peace they desired, not when the New Order was already doing a decent job of it. Okay, passable, Hux amended silently. It was a work in progress. And as might be expected, the Outer Rim territories, due to their scattered nature and far larger sectors had always been harder to coral, its people bitter, its leaders stubborn.

Glassing over sectors with known Resistance activity wasn’t going to win them any allies in the long run.

“We need to take a more measured response,” Hux told him. “Starkiller has done its work.” Despite its destruction, it had served its purpose admirably. The most powerful weapon was always the one that only had to be fired once.

“Yes,” said Ren. “I suppose you’re feeling terribly vindicated about that.”

“I have no desire to rule over ashes and dust,” he snapped, “and neither do you. We’re supposed to be a functioning government. _You_ are supposed to be a functioning leader.”

“I lead.”

Hux waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, your ragtag band of Force vagrants. Chasing rumours and ghosts. Your mother and her merry band of rebels remain at large. You have me here, doing your work–"

“I thought you wanted this,” Ren cut in. “You would have shot me in Snoke’s throne room for it.” The soft menace in his voice deepened. “Do you tire of this, Hux? Do know that you can be easily replaced.”

No he couldn’t. No one could replace him. But that didn’t mean Ren wouldn’t try, and if he did, everything Hux had ever worked for would fall to ruin.

“Of course not, Supreme Leader,” he demurred. “You know I am grateful for this opportunity–" Ren snorted at the blatant lie. "–and you know I serve only the Order’s best interests.”

“And yours.”

More than half of Hux’s interests coincided with the Order’s. The fact that Ren believed he could still hold Hux’s ambitions over his head was laughable. So he just shrugged.

An odd silence fell between them. Hux made no move to try and fill it—if Ren wanted to sit here and stare at him for four hours, it was entirely Ren’s prerogative as Supreme Leader, and Hux wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Leaning his cheek on his fist, he watched the thin threads of traffic pass in the distance behind Ren’s shoulder. No planetary traffic was allowed near the citadel, but the Senate District was near the western shipyards, and so he had a constant view of disembarking freighters, lumbering slowly out to space surrounded by TIE escorts, like insects around giant beasts.

“Coruscant.”

Hux immediately refocused his gaze. “What?”

“Coruscant,” Ren repeated. “How do you like it?”

“How do I like…” Hux cast his eyes about, confused. “The planet?”

“You spent most of your life on ships,” said Ren.

“Yes.” And he much preferred them to being on planet. They were cleaner, easier to command, quicker to traverse. Quieter too, on a normal day, and he found the endless velvety darkness of space a far sight better than Coruscant’s yellow tinted horizon, hazy with pollution. And though he would never admit it, and especially not to Ren, he missed his crew. They’d been people he’d commanded for years, and he’d watch them rise in rank, some of which he’d mentored himself. Mitaka, Opan, Unamo, they were loyal, they were _his_. And they all served him better in their posts, so he hadn’t dragged them onto Coruscant with him.

What did Ren want him to say? He preferred it over Arkanis, but in the end, he went where his duties took him. Had Ren decided to make Geonosis his capital, Hux would have made the best of it. He was adaptable, it was the only way to survive.

“It has a history,” said Ren, and Hux barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He hardly needed a history lesson; Coruscant’s role as the seat of Palpatine’s Empire ensured its place in every textbook Hux had ever laid his eyes on. He was sure he knew a damn sight more about the planet than even Ren did. Unless the fool was actually trying to make small talk.

“What do you want, Ren?” he cut in. “Get to the point, unless you actually wish to sit here all day.”

Ren shifted in his seat and uncrossed his legs and the credit finally dropped for Hux.

“Sith hells,” he swore. “You are impossible.”

“No,” said Ren, though the protest was weak. He was lucky that he didn't blush easy; instead he frowned unhappily at Hux, like it was all Hux’s fault he had no self-control.

“Fine,” huffed Hux. “Forget the fact that I’m ruling the galaxy for _you_ , it seems this is all you see me fit for.”

“That’s not true,” said Ren forcefully, rising to his feet. He looked down at Hux, meeting his gaze almost defiantly, like he was offended on Hux’s behalf. “You...you do good work.”

Hux’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. Was that praise? “Didn’t you say I’d be easily replaced? Or did you just remember, Ren, that replacing me would also mean replacing... _this_.”

He didn’t have to get up to kiss Ren, who instead dropped to his knees to meet Hux at his level. He kissed wet, with a lot of tongue and too many teeth, as though everything Hux had ever taught him had fallen out of his head since the last time they’d done this. Last time being on the shuttle to Coruscant, after Ren had decided he’d make a better politician than a general. It would’ve been sweet if it had been anyone other than Ren, and if Hux was in any way inclined to sweetness, if sweetness could somehow encompass getting fucked senseless in the shuttle’s tiny refresher while Ren breathed loudly and wetly in his ear. Hux had supposed it’d been his way of apologizing for Crait, but at that point he’d been too angry about being sidelined to care.

How kriffing typical of Ren. To travel all this way for what amounted to a booty call. But Hux wasn’t delusional. He held no hopes that Ren wouldn’t change on a credit; such was the hazard of working with these ridiculous Force-mystics. Ren wanted Hux now, but he wanted a lot of things, and if another option were to present itself...Hux knew there was no dearth of clever, dangerous officers within the Order willing to do anything to rise to his position.

Of course that didn’t mean he had to continue to weather Ren’s increasingly sloppy kisses—and Ren’s hair did make such lovely handholds. “Enough,” he demanded, tugging him away. Hastily gentled his tone so that it seemed less an order and more what he hoped was an amicable request, when he added, “There’s hand cream, in one of the drawers.” It was the filtered Coruscant air, something about the atmosphere or the ancient filters somehow made it drier than what he’d ever encountered on a Destroyer.

Ren licked a stripe up his cheek—what a childish man, he knew Hux hated it—and pushed back from the chair, pulling off his tunic as he went. Hux briefly regretted not getting up himself; who knew what kind of disorderly mess Ren would leave his stationary in, then focused on undoing the knot buttons on his surcoat. He could ensure at least one thing in this room would survive Kylo Ren and the surcoat was new, of a rich deep purple, the fastenings little knots of silver. A small indulgence, though the cut of it as well as the breeches and shirt he wore underneath hardly strayed from the lines of his old uniform and the gaberwool coat he’d been forced to give up along with his command. As they were, they barely held a candle to what he’d seen some senators wear, yet the quilted Chandrillan silk that passed through his hands was the most luxurious thing he’d ever owned.

“It looks good on you,” said Ren. Hux scowled, forced to repress the sudden desire to set the thing on fire just to spite the other man.

“Just get on with it,” he muttered, undoing the eyehooks on his trousers only for Ren’s large hands to bat his away, looping his fingers into the waistband so he could drag them both together. Hux rolled his hips against that familiar hardness, hating how the friction made his breath catch, that it revealed how long it’d been since he had this.

Ren’s hands roamed down to his arse, digging his fingers into the crease of it, fondling him, all the while breathing loudly into Hux’s ear as he ground his erection against his hip.

“These trousers are thinner than your uniform.”

Hux groaned. “Really, Ren?” While he’d been patiently waiting for Ren to actually start, the man had instead been appraising his clothes. “It’s colder in space. Now stop talking.”

“Stop giving me orders,” Ren growled, undercut it however by getting quietly to work. He pushed Hux down over the back of the armchair, flipped up the hem of his tunic, and dragged his trousers and shorts down to his thighs.

Hux heard Ren drop to his knees and seconds later felt him, wet and hot, and groaned into his forearm.

“Don’t you fucking dare kiss me after this.”

Ren bit him in his left cheek, holding him between his teeth long enough for Hux to feel him smirk. Then, probably just to spite him, he really went for it, laving at him with his tongue, fucking into him, loosening him, filling the room with wet, slick sounds and above that, the hicoughing moans Hux couldn’t hold back, even with a hand over his mouth.

“Look at this,” said Ren, drawing back for a moment. He sounded delighted. “How badly do you want this?” He’d replaced his tongue with his thumb, slowly pressing in past the loosened muscle. Hux unashamedly pushed back.

“Very much,” he groaned. He’d stopped being embarrassed about this with Ren long ago. “Get on with it, you bastard.” Ren bit him again, but he replaced his thumb with two slick fingers, nudging toward Hux’s prostate until he was whining open-mouthed into the back of the chair. He hoped his drool won’t stain the velvet. At least the hand cream was unscented; Hux wasn’t sure if he could live spending the rest of the day smelling like Chandrillan roses and knowing _why_.

Ren removed his fingers. A little roughly—Hux hissed and twitched, then he was hauled up by the collar and spun around, almost falling thanks to the trousers still hobbling his knees. He hated it when Ren dragged him around by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving pet, but apparently not enough that it didn’t make his cock jerk at the feel of Ren’s hand on his nape. He did flinch when Ren pushed him up against the window, transparisteel cool even through his tunic and undershirt. It was one thing to fuck against one of the _Finalizers_ viewports, where in the case of a breach, the cold vacuum of space would take care of him almost instantly. Here, at the height they were at, there would be at least a few seconds of freefall before he splattered across some unfortunate civilian’s speeder.

Ren read that in his face far too easily. “Scared?”

“Fuck you–" He didn’t get any further as Ren hauled him up and onto his cock. The breath punched out of him, the panic at the sudden weightlessness—Hux was sure he swooned for a microsecond, then Ren’s hand was at his nape again, a warm barrier between the transparisteel and his skin.

“You good?” he asked, brow creased in concern even while he looked slightly gormless with pleasure. Like he was worried Hux might pass out mid-fuck. So what then if Hux wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders. So what if he tucked his face into Ren’s neck and held on a little tighter as he sank down on his cock.

“Keep going,” he groaned, once he was fully seated. Ren still had one hand on his nape, fingers tickling the short hairs there. “Don’t stop.”

Ren didn’t have to be told twice. For all his faults, if there was one thing Ren was unfailingly good at, it was at fucking Hux to his exact specifications. Though Hux knew that Ren could theoretically take what he wanted and he’d be powerless to stop him, that need for direction was never more obvious than when he had his cock in Hux’s arse. This was why he’d maintained this aspect of their relationship even after what had happened in the _Supremacy_ , on Crait. All the more reason to maintain it. Allies close, enemies closer and all that. Ren might be over-emotional, at times distractable and naive, but he wasn’t stupid; keeping Hux around on so long a leash was dangerous. There was always a chance Hux was just one wrong word and one bad fuck away from crashing through the window and falling to a messy end.

Would it be worth it? He hadn’t yet decided.

“Stars,” Ren growled, close enough to Hux’s ear that he startled. “You don’t ever kriffing stop thinking, do you?”

“Maybe if you put your back into it,” Hux threw out in challenge.

Ren grunted and planted his feet, moving his hands to brace them against the transparisteel. This pinned Hux between the window and his body, the force of his thrusts the only thing keeping him up. And possibly the Force. “Fuck, Ren,” he gasped, digging his blunt nails hard enough into his back that he was probably drawing blood.

“Good enough for you, Chancellor?” breathed Ren. He’d started fucking Hux just how he liked it, deep and slow, each slide against his prostate torturously good. His filthy mouth trailed across Hux’s jaw, then down his throat, sucking a bruise into his skin high enough it would have shown over his old uniform’s collar.

Hux knew what that meant. _Pay attention to me_ , he was saying, _me and only me_. Far more frustrating than Ren’s neediness was that everything about him—from his oddly handsome face to his incongruously soft lips, his large hands, his perfect _cock_ ; all were made to completely hold Hux’s attention. It was maddening how absolutely weak the sum of Ren’s parts made him even when he was, on the whole, a ridiculous and pathetic man. And the fact that Hux still found all that attractive, somehow, just reflected a general downturn in his decision making skills ever since he’d agreed to oversee Snoke’s apprentice some seven years ago.

It probably explained why Ren was still alive.

He groaned again at a sudden pressure on his cock, though Ren’s hands were still pressed against the transparisteel. A show of power Ren rarely utilized, mostly because, Hux was sure, he couldn’t get the kind of pleasure he wanted out of it.

Unless. “This is mine,” he growled. “The galaxy, the Order, this planet, _you_.”

Hux peeled open his eyes, released his death grip on Ren’s shoulders. Leaned back enough that he could catch his gaze. He never liked making eye-contact with Ren during sex, hated how expressive his face went, leaking emotions everywhere, a mindfuck he couldn’t guard against specifically because it wasn’t one.

But he could play this game better. “Yes,” he moaned, enjoying how Ren’s eyes widened. Hadn’t he expected that? “Yours, please, sir, _please_ –"

He wasn’t sure what he was begging for but it worked. Ren came with a loud animal grunt, pushing Hux back against the window until he was almost bent double. It hurt a little—Hux wasn’t as flexible as he’d once been. It went on a while, Ren grunting and huffing into his neck. He didn’t stop thrusting, softening cock dragging against Hux’s prostate in spasmodic jerks until he wanted to scream in frustration. He couldn’t even get himself off, not with the way Ren had him folded in half.

The bastard finally pulled back, enough that he could slide his arms around Hux’s shoulders and lower them both to the floor, Hux still in his lap.

“Fucking finally.” He squirmed, feeling Ren’s come leak out of him. He put his hand on his own erection, only for Ren to swat it away with a massive paw. It didn’t take much, he was already so tightly wound, and Ren had the most perfect callouses on his thumb. It took just a moment, maybe two, for Hux to follow him into orgasm.

He came down from it to find that Ren had caught most of his spend in his hand, sparing his clothing. Good. Until Ren, grinning at him, still breathing a little heavily, smeared the handful of come into the carpet.

“Oh stars,” Hux groaned, letting his head thunk against the window. “What are you, a child?”

“Obviously not,” said Ren. He leaned forward to give the blossoming bruise on Hux’s throat one last suck, clearly enjoying how it made him squirm. As he shuffled away, Hux kicked off his rumpled trousers and stretched out his legs. He didn’t bother trying to stand yet, not with his feet full of pins and needles.

Mystical Force user or whatnot that he was, Ren had no such issues, climbing heavily to his feet. He loomed over Hux like a brooding mountain, any intimidation completely ruined with his cock still out.

“You complain a lot that I read your thoughts,” he said, “but half the time, even when we’re fucking, you’re the one thinking very loudly about how much you want to kill me.”

Hux closed his eyes and stretched, feeling his spine pop. Feeling was slowly returning to his legs. “I guess I like to keep you in practice,” he said. And as usual, despite the fact that it was Ren, he felt good. He pressed his fingers into the bruise on his neck, relishing the slight ache. A reminder to get a hold of himself before this feeling became a terrible inconvenience.


	2. thrill just to get at me

Ren was still standing at the window half-dressed when Hux emerged from the refresher. He looked like one of the live models down at Coruscant fashion plaza, if a little grubbier and more scratched up. At least he'd tucked his cock away, not that anyone would see it through the one way glass.

"So," said Hux, straightening the collar of his surcoat. "Anything else we should catch up on?" He itched to get back behind his desk, to get back to work. All this waiting around, waiting for Ren to finish brooding, to give his orders or whatever edicts he had for the day were all a colossal waste of time.

"You already send me a report of all your dealings and decisions daily," Ren said. "There's really nothing to catch up on." He continued to gaze out into the distance. Something of particular interest seemed to have caught his eye. Hux stepped up next to him, following his line of sight. The line of the horizon, disrupted though it was at points by skyscrapers, still occasionally gave him a strange sense of vertigo. Even though he’d just been fucked against the window, he was still careful not to look too far down.

"It's something, isn't it?" said Ren after a long while. "All this life, enough to fill several systems, all crammed onto one planet."

"Yes," agreed Hux slowly, unsure of where this was going.

"You hold all their lives in your hand. Is this what you wanted?"

“I’m not here to control every minutiae of their existence, Ren,” Hux said heavily. “Peace, stability, order. At their core, people are simple. That’s what they want.”

“What do you want?”

 _For you to stop breathing down my neck. Knowing that my position remains secure._ Hux distracted from these thoughts with an irritated huff and a roll of his eyes. “For you to stop lurking behind my drapes. If you want to spy on me, go about it like a normal person.”

"I’m not here to spy on you," said Ren, stepping back from the window. He pulled the straps of his suspenders back up and adjusted them. Now that he was no longer caught up in a fog of lust, Hux realised he'd gone back to dressing the way he had back when they'd still worked together on Starkiller Base. The strange mesh shirt. The high-waisted trousers with the dense, heavy weave. It'd made sense on a cold planet like Ilum, or on a starship. Here, on temperate Coruscant, it had to be sweltering.

"What?" snapped Ren, catching Hux staring as he wrapped his heavy cloak around his shoulders. "Do you have something to say?"

"No," said Hux, wisely keeping his speculation to himself. He smoothed down the front of his surcoat and made for his desk.

"I haven't dismissed you yet."

Hux froze a moment before turning stiffly. "Aren’t we done here? You had your update, your little rendezvous, as you can see,” he spread his arms, “everything is in order, Supreme Leader.”

"I called Unamo," Ren said, "and had her put me down for the entire afternoon. And I _will_ have you for the entire afternoon. Or would you rather spend it with more old men blathering at you?" He looked a little smug, like he was somehow offering Hux the opportunity of a lifetime.

Hux rolled his eyes. “You should have told me that before I put my trousers back on. Might I suggest we retire to a bed though? Fold me in half like that again and you might snap me in two. Unless that’s the point.”

Ren laughed. “I’m glad you think I’m so enamoured by your skinny ass, Hux, that I’d travel all the way from the Outer Rim for it, but no, I think we’re done for now.”

“Excellent!” cried Hux, throwing up his hands to hide his flush. "So you have me. What now?”

As always, pushing back against Ren like this was a risk. Not to mention it sometimes made him feel like a petulant child. Why, who, when? And Ren so loved his mysteries, liked dangling answers over Hux’s head as though he was a dog expected to jump for them. Sometimes he did, if it seemed worth it.

Today it didn’t.

So Hux didn't bother pressing the matter further when Ren led the way out of his offices and down to the private hanger bay. His praetorian guard closed in as they were spotted, but Hux gestured for them to return to their posts, and they obeyed. He noted how Ren glanced over to them, interest showing openly on his face, but chose not to address it. Maybe later, he would have someone look deeper into their records. But surely if Ren had a spy amongst his guards, he wouldn’t so openly reveal it—Ren was well acquainted with Hux’s paranoid tendencies. There was also the possibility that Ren was simply seeking sparring partners. Hux knew Snoke's guards in the past had served as Ren's training fodder, and while he wasn't keen to waste well trained soldiers on Ren's tantrums, it would probably serve him in the future to have guards with experience in fighting and defending against a Force user. If they survived.

"You're not going to ask where we're going?"

"I hardly doubt you'd go to this effort of requesting my time only to push me over the edge of a balcony," said Hux drily. "Nor do I believe you're planning on taking me sight-seeing."

"A year ago you would have bitched endlessly."

Hux snorted. Though Ren would have been right, he would hardly call it "bitching". Voiced his objections, maybe. Pointed out the waste of his valuable time. It used to do Ren good to be told what an idiot he was.

"Do you miss it?” he asked. “I didn't quite expect you to be so eager to be told what to do."

"I haven't been away all that long. Yet here you are, sounding like those old Imperials you hate so much."

That struck sharply enough to make Hux bristle. "Because I'm not constantly lowering myself to your level to argue back.” Though he still caved far too often. Hadn’t they spent the whole time in his office sniping at each other? Talking in circles, getting little done. “Forgive me, Supreme Leader, for not humoring you, but I spend enough of my time these days arguing with people far more insufferable than you, and I'll take my peace where I can."

"You do sound old," said Ren, and it reminded Hux that he had to be approaching thirty now, if he hadn’t already passed it. At this point they must have known each other close to a decade. Stars, had it really been so long? He could still recall the day he’d first met Ren, when and his father had been summoned before Supreme Leader Snoke to meet his new apprentice. Hux hadn’t thought much of the boy he’d been back then. Respect, in his experience, had to be earned, and it had taken a while for Ren to learn that lesson.

The jury was still out on how much of it he deserved, Hux mused. Whatever their arrangements, the first few months after Crait had been fraught. He’d spent all of them with his shoulders drawn warily up, expecting the invisible hand of the Force to curl around his throat at any moment he spent in the new Supreme Leader’s presence. And Ren seemed to enjoy threatening it. That was all he did though, threaten. Bark without bite. Not that Hux was stupid enough to try shoot him again. A good coup, he’d learned, from his own failure and that of others, should never be a spur of the moment decision.

So he was here on Coruscant, shuffled off while others went to claim military victories that were rightfully his. Though Coruscant, not-quite shining gem of the Old Republic and now the New Order, wasn’t exactly nothing. Hux wasn’t sure if Rae would’ve been proud, but she would have seen it as a step in the right direction.

The speeder Ren ushered him to was nondescript and battered, and not one Hux had seen in this hanger before. And where he had expected reckless speeds and careless flying, Ren travelled almost sedately, too sedate for Hux's tastes, who felt himself growing more and more on edge.

The flight was not a long one, and despite the relatively slow speed Ren flew at, he maneuvered deftly around traffic, and soon they were approaching the relatively sky-scraper free plateau that marked the edge of the Senate District.

There were only two things of note there. The large shipyards and hangers from which Republic battle cruisers had once taken off—repurposed as a storage facility and freighter hanger now that the Star Destroyers had outgrown them—and the Jedi Temple.

Hux glanced over to Ren. His brow was furrowed, and he looked so deeply lost in thought, that Hux considered offering to drive instead. That would at least give him something to do. Beyond his clothes, his blaster and his commlink, he had taken nothing with him, and the inactivity fairly itched. And the Jedi Temple? Why? What could be there that Ren wished to show him?

Patience, he told himself, tapping his fingers on his knee. Ren's motivations would reveal themselves in due time.

Purportedly several millennia old, the Jedi Temple ziggurat rose above the gray plain before them. Two of its five minarets had fallen, and not been rebuilt. It was almost a shame, Hux thought, that all this space was being wasted. The New Republic had chosen to keep it as a heritage site, for all the good it had done anyone, Jedi or no. It was not like the average citizen of Coruscant could make use of the space. For all he knew, aside from Ren, he was going to be the only other person to step foot in it since the last of the Jedi had been destroyed.

They flew past crumbling statues, features eaten by acid rain, once intricate patterns carved into the rock washed out until only the faintest trace remained. Despite himself, Hux found himself intrigued by the place. The Jedi had inspired much of his father's work, who believed that their training since birth and their asceticism bred superior soldiers. Yet judging from all the statuary, the carved stone fascia that edged even the ceiling of the hanger, the engravings that adorned every other wall...it seemed that the Jedi had been far from the dull austere monks he'd believed them to be.

Dust puffed under their boots as they disembarked. The place had clearly been abandoned for decades, if not the half century that had passed since their fall. Whatever Luke Skywalker and the New Republic had done to restore the Jedi, rebuilding their temple had not been one of those.

"They wanted a mausoleum," Ren said, his voice ringing off the stone walls. "The Emperor kept the temple as proof of his victory over the Light, and Skywalker saw it as a symbol of hope and resilience. Of course, the average citizen doesn't care."

"It's hard to care when you Force users keep bandying about terms like 'the Light' and 'the Dark',” Hux told him. “What does that matter, in the grand scheme of things? They explain morality and motivations about as well as 'good' and 'evil'."

"Of course you would say something like that, Hux." Ren actually sounded fond, though the thought seemed laughable. "Do you consider what you do a necessary evil?"

"Necessary, yes. Evil..." Hux knew that that was how many saw him. The architect of Starkiller Base, genocidal lunatic, butcher of the Hosnian System. It had been necessary. Every life that winked out of existence that day had been sacrificed to attain the peace they had today. Besides, the rest of the galaxy had moved on quickly enough. Most sentient beings didn't have the capacity to fathom the existence of billions of lives if they didn't intersect regularly with their own, so how could they be expected to miss them? All that mattered to them in the end was their own survival, their own comfortable existence.

"It was the means to an end," he said. "Nothing personal. I know your Jedi were fond of that. No attachments, no feelings. To separate emotion from action."

"Yes," Ren murmured. "Something to that effect, I suppose. Though I am starting to believe that the teachings I received from Skywalker were largely misinterpretations."

"I see," said Hux, though he really didn't. He wasn't a Force user. He hardly cared for whatever Ren's battle was between this supposed light and dark beyond how it affected his duties as Supreme Leader, and in turn, the duties Hux now had as Chancellor. Whatever tenuous connection he had to the Jedi through Brendol's mildly delusional, ambitious training program, it hardly mattered now. They'd been gone for decades.

"What are we doing here, Ren?" he finally asked.

"Information,” said Ren. “But I want to show you something first."

They walked through winding corridors that arced high above them, moving deeper and deeper into the colossal building. Ceilings soared, and hardly a surface remained undecorated by paintings, engravings or murals. Even the stone floors had mosaics set into them at regular intervals, though they walked through the halls too quickly for Hux to make out much of the patterns.

What a waste of space. What a waste of resources. The stone could have been reused to rebuild entire blocks, and if the temple were to be torn down, they could easily expand the shipyards to be of proper use. From the little Ren had mentioned of his training, Skywalker's own Jedi school had been established on an entirely different planet, his students living in little more than huts. They had no need for this place.

After some time walking, Hux began to notice that the echo of their footsteps was softening, as though the sound was fading out into a large space, instead of bouncing between the stone walls as they had when they’d first set out. Soon after came the smell, rolling heavy over the floor and curling up into their noses. It smelled of vegetation and damp, with a sour undercurrent of rot. Hux wrinkled his nose, and surprised himself with a sneeze. Ren barked out a short laugh.

“Even on planet you’re not out much, are you?”

Hux scoffed, and refused to dignify that with an answer. As they moved deeper, the smell got stronger, woodier and greener. Looking down, Hux noticed that the stone floor was covered in creeping carpets of moss. The sight would have been unsettling, if it weren’t for the brightness growing at the end of the corridor. Wherever they were heading, it was there was light, and that itself put Hux a little more at ease.

Upon further inspection, he noticed that a path had been scuffed through the moss, older than the one left by Ren’s heavy thread. Not quite enough to scrape down to bare stone, but enough that the moss there was dull and limp, while it grew brighter and thicker against the walls.

“Come here often?” he called ahead. “Is this where you sulk whenever you park the _Steadfast_ over my head?”

“How I pass my time is my own business, Hux.”

Bold of Ren to assume Hux cared in any way how he passed his time. At least now he had an idea of where the Supreme Leader disappeared to on his occasional visits, instead of worrying about him peering over Hux’s shoulder. Except when he was apparently hiding behind the drapes of his office.

Ren stopped abruptly and Hux almost walked into him, stopping a hairsbreadth short of smacking his nose into his back. Under the thick smell of nature, Ren still reeked a little of sex.

“Come,” said Ren, and Hux was distracted enough that he didn’t immediately pull away when Ren seized him by the upper arm and tugged him into a space so large, he first thought they were in an open courtyard.

As the smell and the moss had suggested, it was green, the kind of lush vegetation Hux hadn’t seen in years, especially not up close. There were tiers, each spilling over with a wide variety of trees and vines, all growing up to the large transparisteel roof through which Coruscant’s evening sun shone. Walkways and arches crisscrossed the levels. Here and there were cliffs slick with damp moss, water trickling sluggishly over the lip. One such fed into a stagnant pool, that in turn fed into a small river flowing slowly before their feet.

Hux squinted up at the ceiling. He was barely able to make out the roof; only creeping green vines gave away that there was one at all. They had to be several levels under the temple at least, for this space to be so large. And despite the general unmaintained, overgrown look of it, someone had been here since the fall of the Jedi Order, someone who very likely wasn’t Ren. Little pedestals that hadn’t quite been overgrown with vines stood at intervals, some holding what look very much like lightsabers. Others held artifacts that Hux was unable to discern from his position and others just seemed to be empty.

"What is this place?"

"The Room of a Thousand Fountains," Ren said somberly. "A place of meditation and reflection for the Jedi of old."

"It smells."

"It's the rot." Ren kicked a clump of dirt into the slowly eddying pool. It sank with a soft _plop_. "Skywalker didn't want to reopen his school here. It was the arrogance of the old Order, he said, that blinded them to the growing shadow of the dark. Keeping alive the shambling ruins of the Republic when it should have died a long time ago.

"This," and he gestured at the room at large, taking in the soaring windows, the gnarled trees, the sluggish river that flowed along at their boots, the scattered displays of the remnants of dead Jedi, "he wanted this to be a memorial and a reminder."

"And then from the sound of it, completely failed to learn from his own lessons," Hux interjected, eager to hurry this impromptu tour along. He wished Ren had given him some notice before dragging him into this indoor swamp. He was already sweating in the unexpected humidity. The high collar of his tunic itched. The idea of this room of fountains serving as a memorial was itself ridiculous. Unless Skywalker had explicitly intended for the indoor forest to swallow up all his carefully displayed artifacts. "Is this what you brought me here for? A history lesson on the Jedi and their downfall, and your family's sordid involvement in it?"

Ren scoffed softly. He nudged at something else with his boot, something that glinted in the dust-filled sunlight. A lightsaber, one that must have fallen from its display some time ago. A casual wave of his hand brought it to his grip.

"I've been reading Brendol Hux's files. I have access to them now, as Supreme Leader."

"I didn't hide them from you, if that's what you're implying," Hux said testily. "You were outside the chain of command, your opinions had no bearing on military decisions. And the files were restricted to all but the highest ranking members."

"No need to excuse yourself–"

"I wasn't–"

Ren's eyes narrowed. Hux shut his mouth with a snap and tugged at his damp collar.

"My point being," Ren continued, "your father was inspired by the Jedi and their clone soldiers. Take the children when they're young. Indoctrinate them. Train them. You too, underwent his conditioning."

Where was this going? Hux had little to say on the results of his father's program in how they applied to him. He wasn't the mindless, obedient drones that the troopers were supposed to be. Brendol hadn't managed to inculcate loyalty sufficient to prevent his own son from arranging his death, and he’d been arrogant and foolish enough to think fear would keep Hux cowed forever. But whatever Hux was, he'd been moulded to fit into a particular machine—a machine which he now ran. From a scared, miserable child, he'd surpassed his father in every way. If that had been Brendol's goal in the end, though if it’d been he’d never expressed it, he'd succeeded.

"Yes," he said irritably, dug the toe of his boot under a loose pebble, and kicked it into the river.

"Everything we are starts here," said Ren. Hux stared. Was this supposed to be a bonding moment? Had Ren brought him here just to express some vague maudlin sentiment about the barest ways in which they were connected?

He must have been projecting his incredulity too loudly—Ren turned sharply towards him, the lightsaber spinning in the palm of his hand. It came to a slow stop, emitter pointing right at him.

"You're right," he said. "Enough talk." And he tossed the lightsaber at Hux, who snatched it out of the air inches from his face.

"Let's duel."

They left the room of a thousand fountains, the slow gurgling sound of water slowly fading as they moved deeper into a different part of the temple. The grip of the lightsaber bit into Hux's palms. What was Ren playing at? He hadn't yet dared to ignite it.

The Jedi training salles were sunk into the ground, surrounded above by walkways so that spectators could crowd around to watch and learn. There were still old scorch marks on some of the walls and floors.

Ren swung himself over one of the railings, landing nimbly in one of the salles. For a moment Hux wondered if he'd have to jump too, before he spotted a staircase that led into the pit. By the time he got to the bottom, Ren had pulled off his cloak and was stretching his arms behind his head. Without the ragged cloak he wore, the lightsaber on his hip was obvious.

Hux grip tightened on his own weapon. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. "If you're going to kill me," he said, deciding to speak bluntly, "you don't have to go to such an effort."

"What?" said Ren. "You're right, I wouldn't. Consider this a friendly match. Can't let my hand-picked Chancellor go to mould in his stuffy office."

"A friendly match?" They'd sparred before, during the early years of Starkiller. Hand-to-hand combat, and back then they'd been fairly evenly matched. It'd been early into Ren's training with Snoke, and he'd given Hux the impression that he'd hardly ever sparred with Force-nulls; in turns too cautious, then clumsily aggressive to compensate. And back then Hux had still kept up a strict physical training regiment, even with the additional duties that came with the new rank of general. As general, Brendol Hux had gone further to seed than he’d already been as Commandant, and Hux had vowed never to let that happen to him.

He'd admittedly slipped over the years, the pressures of the job, the frantic drive to stay alive and navigate the ever shifting ground beneath his feet taking priority over everything else. Nowadays he spent a few hours a week running, under the watchful eye of his praetorian guard, the activity already strenuous enough for someone with a body adjusted to far lighter gravity. A marksmanship refresher at least once a month. But he hadn't held any weapon other than a blaster in years.

Hux looked down at the lightsaber in his hand, brushing his thumb over the activator.

“If you think you’ll get some sport out of this, you’re mistaken.”

Ren said nothing, doing lunges on the mat, stretching out his calves. Flaunting that kriffing perfect body in front of Hux. He could still see the red lines he’d left across his back from earlier.

Standing there in his senatorial robes, which were definitely not meant for sparring, Hux felt ridiculous. It was almost like he was in his teens again, having strange dreams of turning up for a training exercise unprepared. Waiting to be punished and humiliated. But there was no waking up from this. With a quiet sigh he stripped off the outer surcoat he wore. Aside from fashion, it also served as a protective garment, blaster fire resistant threads woven into the interfacing. After a moment's hesitation, he took off his tunic too, worried it was too stiff to allow him to move freely. This left him in a standard issue black undershirt, taken from his wardrobe aboard the _Finalizer_.

Stretching his arms behind his head, trying to loosen muscle tight from inactivity (sex didn’t count), he turned around to find Ren watching him with a strange look on his face.

"What is it?" he snapped. His undershirt was still damp with sweat and stuck to him, emphasising his skinny torso. He refused to feel self-conscious about it, ruthlessly squashing down what little embarrassment rose to the forefront.

"Nothing," said Ren. He unclipped his lightsaber, and set it down on his discarded cloak. Then he said, "I haven't seen you like this in a while."

"You're overthinking it," Hux told him shortly. He knew Ren was far better acquainted with the sight of his bare legs. Even back on Starkiller Base, when they’d had a more regular arrangement, he’d rarely done more than undo his breeches. Space was cold. It was Ren usually who enjoyed stripping down like he had something to prove. But after the stifling humidity of that fountain room, taking off the layers felt freeing. Besides, he told himself, he was only being practical.

They performed the rest of their warm ups in silence, each on opposite ends of the training mat. It had to be the broken air recyclers, the malodorous damp of that indoor swamp leaking into the rest of the building, and maybe the overimaginative anxiety humming through Hux—he felt observed by more eyes than Ren's, the heavy weight of anticipation filling the space between them.

His own elevated pulse beat away in his chest, but he found that he was actually excited by the prospect of sparring Ren. No, he didn't think he was going to win, or even be capable of putting up a good defense against whatever Ren was going to unleash against him. But he was certain now that he wasn't going to die; this was too much of an effort for Ren, who was generally impatient, swift and decisive with his punishments. Why bother dragging Hux all the way out here for this? And maybe humoring him now would give Hux some answers to this strange mood that had seized him.

"Ready?" he asked, picking up the lightsaber. There was no point delaying. No amount of warmups in the galaxy would help him in this match.

Ren rose slowly from his squat, calling his 'saber to his hand with the Force. He thumbed it alight, and its spastic crackling hum filled the room.

Hux activated his own weapon. It sprung to life immediately, seemingly unaffected by the time it had spent exposed to the damp and sunlight of its memorial. The blade, to his surprise, was a vivid purple, instead of the traditional blue or green he knew from archival holos. Unlike Ren's, when he held it steady, it hardly made a noise, though he could feel its steady hum pulsing through the grip.

Ren stepped forward. He said, "First, we bow," and did so, low, the blade of his 'saber swept off to the side. Hux followed, the hairs at the back of his neck prickling.

Straightening from the bow, he settled back into a defensive, wide-legged stance, the kind he would have taken when sparring with a trooper's shock baton. The lightsaber he slanted defensively before him.

"How does it feel?"

"What?"

"The weapon." Ren stood in a loose wide-legged stance, the tip of his lightsaber inches from the padded floor. The smell of melting plastic filled the room.

"It's light," said Hux, trying not to let his confusion at this line of questioning show. It was the weightlessness of the blade that tripped him up. The balance of the lightsaber was entirely in the hilt, and it took some getting used to.

Somehow Ren seemed to be thinking the same. "Test it," he urged. "Get used to the blade. It won't do to forget where it is, and cut off your own head."

"Is this training now?" asked Hux, though he did as instructed. The blade humed louder as it swung through the air, which gave him a better idea of the dimensions of the blade as he moved it.

"I'd be a poor sport to let you dismember yourself by accident," said Ren. He looked amused. "You're not totally new to this. Did you spar with Phasma and her force pike?"

"On occasion," said Hux. He still had a scar from one such session. Once he felt confident with the blade, he started to mix in a little footwork into it, just basic side steps, forward and backward movements. "I also had training with a stun baton."

"A clever weapon. Yours?"

"No," said Hux. "Though I studied briefly under the woman who developed it."

Ren hmmed. He broke from his resting pose, swinging his lightsaber casually before him. "On your guard, Hux."

Hux stood his ground when the first blow struck, pushing back against the resistance of Ren's blade. It gave him an idea of the power of Ren's blows, though he didn't expect Ren to maintain any kind of consistency. The Supreme Leader struck slowly, projecting his moves so that Hux could move to block or parry in time, always sidestepping, reluctant to retreat. They circled each other like this for a while.

"Don't you want to attack?" asked Ren. His blade suddenly disengaged from Hux's, darting out whip-like past his defences to land a scorching bite against his bicep. Hux yelled, more out of surprise than pain. The strike had been fleeting enough just to burn through the sleeve.

“Come on,” Ren taunted. “Try to hit me.”

Hux seethed, tightening his grip on the lightsaber with both hands. He’d been fighting one handed so far, still depending on his training with the riot baton. It was time to adapt. Here he had no shield with him, so he had to make do.

“Better,” said Ren, watching him square his shoulders. He struck again, slow enough for Hux to catch the blade with his own and turn it aside. Ren might have been projecting the blow, but this time there was more force behind, the impact jarring Hux’s wrists. It made him realise he hadn’t really held anything heavier than a blaster pistol in a long while, and he cursed softly, then a little louder as he dodged another swing of Ren’s lightsaber.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Ren said. He swung his lightsaber at Hux’s side and allowed him to parry it. He sounded a little morose.

“What?” snapped Hux. “Played with your food?” He was already breathing heavily, much to his shame. “Don’t you have your knights?”

“Sparred with you.”

“We had good reason to stop.”

“Yes,” said Ren. “Your work. My training.”

He didn’t speak after that, just kept flicking his blade at Hux, almost casually, though the expression on his face remained fiercely concentrated, as though not hitting Hux was taking up all of his focus. Meanwhile Hux was exerting himself in a way he hadn’t in a long while. Sweat trickled down from his hairline, and his arms ached from pushing his blade back against Ren’s blows. The bright glare of both blades left an afterimage in the back of his eyes that made it hard to keep track of Ren’s blade, especially the crossguard, which turned out not to be quite for show alone. At one point, when their blades had locked, bringing them close enough that Hux could smell the burning ozone of their blades, Ren twisted the grip in his hands, scorching a line down the back of Hux’s forearm with one of the flickering quillons.

“Sith hells,” Hux swore, springing back and shaking out his arm. The burn wasn’t deep, but the three inch streak was already turning red and blistered.

Ren’s mouth twisted and he stalked to the other end of the training pit. For a moment, Hux thought he was going to end the match, only to watch him whirl around, lightsaber once again menacingly extended.

Time to end this, Hux thought. He was tired of being toyed with, and for all his lack of practice, he’d still spent almost all his life training to fight, having various forms of hand-to-hand combat drilled into him. He wasn’t the best fighter, never had been, but he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.

With a shout, he threw himself at Ren, the cry actually managing to catch him off-guard. Hux’s blow was quickly flicked away, but he recovered and threw another at Ren, and another, pressing his brief advantage, relying, in part, on the knowledge that Ren wasn’t interested in truly maiming or killing him.

At one point he was sure he struck a blow, though he couldn’t see it; Ren grunted, retreated, and Hux seized the ground he gave. Their lightsabers spat and crackled as they met between their bodies, Hux throwing all his weight behind the blow, seeing the fire of both blades reflect in Ren’s eyes.

And then he extinguished his blade. Hoped to hell he hadn’t miscalculated, that he wasn’t about to impale himself on Ren’s weapon. He dropped to one knee, head ducked, arm extended, lightsaber aimed at Ren’s knee. If he ignited his blade he could hamstring Ren this way, even cut off his leg at the thigh, and he was still toying with the idea of it, when that split second proved to be a little too long.

The blow struck him in the chest, hard enough to throw him back several feet. Hux landed feeling like his chest had been crushed—the hard toe of Ren’s boot had caught him right in the solar plexus, his diaphragm spasming too hard to suck air back into his lungs. Through the spots in his vision, he watched Ren stalk over to him, blade still lit.

Shit, thought Hux, wheezing. He’d miscalculated after all.

The padded floor seemed to shake beneath him as Ren dropped to a knee, bringing the blade of his ‘saber dangerously close to Hux’s head. Its shrieking hum filled his ears, the red of it turning white as its glare burned itself into his retinas.

Over all that, Ren was saying something.

Hux tried to suck in another breath and choked. He rolled away, coughing, and when no one pulled him back, pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Behind him, he heard the crackling hum of Ren’s saber extinguish, and now finally, his lungs obeyed him. He drew in one greedy breath after the other, before he allowed himself to collapse back against the mat, rubbing his chest. It was going to bruise. In fact he would probably have to get a scan, to make sure Ren hadn’t cracked anything.

“You’re fine,” said Ren, his voice coming from the other side of the room. Hux rolled onto his side, and found him examining a long shiny burn that had cut through his trousers and caught him in the thigh. “That was reckless.”

Still too winded for words, Hux grunted and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He staggered over to where he’d left his clothes and hastily started dressing himself; first the tunic over his sweat drenched shirt, then the surcoat, until he had all his layers back on and—absurdly, he knew—felt a little better protected. Still slightly shaky from adrenaline, he slid down against the wall and absently watched Ren cycle through his cooldown routine.

There wasn’t much. Hux suspected the routine was mostly habit. Or Ren just wanted to be shirtless a little longer. The fewer clothes he had to put back on, the more time he took to dress. By the time he walked up to Hux, pulling Hux’s lightsaber to his hand from where it had rolled off to, the pain in Hux’s chest had abated to a dull, if steady, throb.

Hux jerked back in surprise when Ren extended a hand. He’d been busy fantasizing about having gone through with his attack. Watching Ren wriggle on the mats like a stuck bantha. An adequate distraction, but not one that gave him much satisfaction, not the way it once might have.

“Good match,” said Ren, “for someone so out of practice.” If that was a warning or rebuke, Hux was beyond caring. He took Ren’s large, warm hand in his own and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Ren handed him the lightsaber, and he took it and clipped it to his belt.

“I–" his voice came out a croak, so he coughed and tried again.“I take it these sparring sessions are to continue?”

“If you want,” said Ren. He climbed up the stairs, then waited expectantly until Hux followed and drew level with him. “Like I said, I can’t let you grow musty and old in that office of yours.”

Managing to muster up some of his old sarcasm, Hux drawled. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint you.” And in truth, the prospect of it excited him. Already he found himself coming up with strategies, ways of getting past Ren’s defense again. He had recordings of him training, he could watch them. Some of his guards knew teras kasi, he could train with them. He'd never be as good as Ren, but he'd even the playing field a little more.

“You're smiling, Chancellor,” said Ren. “You enjoyed that.”

“You almost caved my chest in, you buffo—” Ren coughed. Hux rolled his eyes. “It was good. This really all you wanted me here for? To kick my arse at something you're already better at than me?”

“I guess I like to keep you in practice,” said Ren. His lips twitched in a barest smile, and Hux found himself unexpectedly responding with a sharp, fierce grin of his own.

“My four hours are up, by the way,” said Ren as they wandered their way down another arching hallway, this one filled with floor-to-ceiling statues nestled into the wall at regular intervals. Most of them had their limbs and heads hacked off. In some cases the stone was scorched and blackened, sagging and pooling where the heat had been hot enough to melt it. Someone had moved the detritus aside; every now and then, an intact stone face gazed up serenely at their passing.

Hux hmmed. He was still trying to adjust to the feel of the lightsaber on his hip. His belt—more a sash really—was not made for its weight, and it bumped against his leg with every step.

“You can go.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re dismissed, Hux.” Ren sounded amused. “Go and touch yourself to paperwork or whatever it is you do in your free time.”

Hux’s mouth twisted wryly at the joke. “You overestimate how much I like paperwork. I do it because it’s necessary, not because it brings me joy. Not something you’d understand, though.”

Ren shrugged. “It’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” He didn’t give Hux a chance to respond, grabbing him by the chin, and kissing him hard on the mouth, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth and biting till he broke skin.

He pulled away before Hux’s brain could catch up, and patted him on the cheek. “Be good, Chancellor.”

With that parting word, he swept away, vanishing down a hidden side corridor. Still stunned, Hux watched the hem of his cloak whip around the corner before he unfroze. He lunged forward, only to have a door seal up in his face.

“Ren!” he roared, hammering on the durasteel. The blows rang tinny in the huge space of the hall. “ _REN_!”

Oh, the bastard. The absolute bantha-brained, Wookie-spawned, thrice-damned bastard. Yelling, he kicked the door, before he remembered the lightsaber Ren had gifted him. He could cut it down and then, for good measure, chop Ren in half. He already had the weapon in his hand, the blade ignited, casting a purple light across his hands. Sparks flew as he dragged it across the access panel, but the door remained shut.

For several long moments, he stood by the door, lightsaber in hand, breathing hard. The hacked open faces of long dead Jedi watched him, judging him with their empty stone eyes. He deserved it. They probably had the right idea with that non-attachment thing. Surely Master Decapitated Zabrak in the Corner over There had never had to deal with this kind of madness, because _he_ had wisely kept his cock and his feelings to himself.

He deactivated the lightsaber. Leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall and adjusted himself in his pants. Why did he do this to himself? “You’re a kriffing idiot, Hux,” he spoke into the silence.

 _Yes_ , he imagined the surrounding dead agreeing, while he worried his split lip with his tongue. _You kriffing idiot_.

Pulling himself together, he gave the door one final petulant kick. He still had to find a way out, and for now, pride demanded he do so without activating his emergency beacon.

The dead judged him all the way down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tagged them as competent, not as mature.


	3. strange love our new foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring wonderful art by [M.Lang](https://twitter.com/PranShashi)!  
> All embedded art is SFW.

Alone in his office, Hux leaned back in his chair and idly thumbed through his to-do list. After a morning and early afternoon full of the usual meetings; hashing out agreements, reading through reports, having Unamo read out a list of invitations and turning them all down, he was looking forward to an afternoon of relatively unstructured time.

Even if it did involve Kylo Ren.

He scrolled through his messages, opening the heavily encrypted missive that had come through on his personal number. There wasn’t much to it, just a brief note that he ought to expect Ren after fifteen hundred hours Coruscant time, and that he was going to come alone. The same last time, then. At least this time he was giving Hux a proper heads up, instead of going through Unamo, and then hiding behind the curtains like a child.

Hux steepled his fingers, and spun his chair around so that he was facing the busy skyscape of Coruscant. Far away in the distance was the brownish mound of the Temple. He hadn’t been back since that last trip with Ren, but the memory of that strange event had floated often to the forefront of his mind over the past few months.

He’d already noted back then that Ren had changed. Been more willing to accept the responsibilities of Supreme Leader, in some ways taking a more active role than Snoke ever had. Fuck, he’d even agreed with Hux on several things Hux had been prepared to fight for. Considering the circumstances of Ren’s rise to the position, and then Hux’s transfer to the realm of politics, in a move he still wasn’t quite sure was meant to be an insult or some sound strategizing on Ren’s parts—these days he was going for both—things had, barring that originally rocky start, gone smoothly.

And then they’d continued to go smoothly, to the point where Hux’s wariness was beginning to feel a little overblown. But Ren hadn’t exactly set a good precedent in his early years with the Order. Hux had half expected him to get bored and run off. In fact Ren’s sudden bout of responsibility had put a rather sizable dent in his plans to depose him, but, and here Hux scowled to himself at the sudden realisation, he hadn’t revisited those plans in a while.

He’d been busy. He had a galaxy to keep in line after all.

So the Supreme Leader was finally returning, after months in the Outer Rim, destroying the last remnant of the Resistance, or driving them into Wild Space. By all accounts—Ren's own and those of others'—he was doing a fairly decent job of it. Pockets of the Resistance had been effectively stamped out across various systems, their planets then brought into the fold of the New Order. Insurgencies stamped out with extreme prejudice. And General Mitaka, shrewd yet dutiful Mitaka, had proven himself a worthy protege, revealing the cunning and determination that had carried him through the Academy at the top of his class by securing outlying systems that even the Republic hadn't controlled before. For the first time in a millenia, Hutt Space was under some semblance of central control again, with part of its profits made in the slave trade and its many smuggling rings flowing into the coffers of the New Order.

There was one last thing that looked to be the final nail in the Resistance’s coffin. General Leia Organa, former Princess of Alderaan, leader of the Rebellion and the Resistance, was dead. There had been little intelligence gathered on the nature of her death and the cause of it. The Resistance had somehow managed to keep a hold of that piece of news, though her demise had struck them a heavy blow. Hux had done his best to disseminate the news, knowing that it would undercut the morale of any systems still holding out against the New Order's rule. And it had worked. Even Dameron's unceasing charisma couldn't hold a candle to the kind of hope she’d inspired in her allies.

And so the war was over. And Hux had won.

Mostly. There was part of him that still rankled that it wasn’t his victory alone, that it was the Supreme Leader who was lauded and praised every time a system capitulated to the New Order, while Hux was handed of the difficult task of actually keeping them in line.

He took a moment to watch a large freighter break atmo, momentarily blocking one of the orbital mirrors that directed sunlight to the Senate District. He was even beginning to get used to being on planet, even though Coruscant’s pollution-blurred horizon still disturbed him.

With a huff, Hux turned back to his desk. If Ren deigned to stay a few days, he could take over some of the work here, while Hux went back up to space. He hated to admit that he occasionally longed for the hollow thud of the deck beneath his feet, that endless dark between the stars that threatened to suck him in when he looked too long. Space. He missed it.

His gaze fell to the lightsaber on his desk. Perhaps he could duel the Supreme Leader for it.

Picking up the weapon, Hux rolled it around in his palm. Regular practice had accustomed him to its weight and balance, and he could move through a number of complicated katas without worrying around burning himself. Of course, it was nothing compared to what a Force user could do with the blade, and Hux held no illusions that he would ever truly stand a chance against Ren, even with practice, yet he still found himself looking forward to the prospect of a rematch.

He was being absurd, he realised. It wasn’t wise to get too comfortable with this. With _him_. Whatever this newfound dynamic they had, it could end at any moment. _That_ was what ought to scare him. Not Ren cutting him in half in some kind of ridiculous mock fight simply because he hoped it would somehow bring some excitement to his life.

Excitement. He snorted. _Listen to yourself._ Years ago he would have given anything for the kind of security he was experiencing now. To actually be bored. Somehow it’d come to this: he was anticipating seeing Kylo Ren. Groaning softly to himself, Hux set down the ‘saber and ground the heels of his hand into his eyes. He needed a drink.

Well, he was technically off for the rest of the day. A little couldn’t hurt.

He walked over to the sideboard and retrieved the bottle of Saurian brandy, still more than half full, pouring himself two fingers of the amber liquid. He sipped slowly, relishing the burn he allowed himself far too rarely these days, and wondered if he ought to open himself up in the ‘fresher before he went down to see Ren. Something else he hadn’t done in a while. The Chancellor was officially single, and not looking for a partner despite the many soiree invitations he’d received, and the potential valuable connections he could make through a courtship. This generally also made seeing anyone off the record far more complicated than he could be bothered with.

Another thing that he’d somehow settled for with Ren. Hux took a larger sip of his brandy.

A shadow fell over the building, automatically bringing the lights up to compensate. Coruscant’s weekly rainfall. He’d forgotten about it. Every week the clouds in a different sector of the planet were seeded to rain for an hour. The process was intended to clear out some of the particle pollution created by the many vehicles and the industrial sector of the planet, reducing the load of the atmospheric scrubbers. Some of it was intended to create at least a semblance of the planet’s original water cycle, in order to maintain the few pockets of undeveloped terrain it still had. And finally, according to the meteorological department, it was good for morale. Coruscant liked their rain, even if it fell on the same day every month, on the hour, for the same amount of time.

Still nursing his glass, Hux walked back over to the window. It was nothing like the kind of rain he’d experienced in his youth, drops large and cold enough to hurt, torrents so heavy they often felt like hammer-blows against the body. In the region he’d grown up, Arkanis rain was often accompanied by dangerously strong gusts of wind, and like now, he’d watched most of it from behind a window, hands splayed against the transparisteel, feeling the staccato hammer of raindrops against his palms. Only in the cooler months, Arkanis rain fell like it did here, a gentler, steady curtain of water that sluiced down the gray facades of the buildings, building up trails against the window that reflected the lights within. Glancing over to some of the neighbouring buildings, Hux caught a few residents out and about in the balcony gardens, umbrellas and rain shields over their head, enjoying the water.

Well, that was at least one lot grateful for his work. Hux smiled into the rim of his glass. Over the months he’d managed to wear Lun down further, altered the deal until the exchange was, in his opinion, equitable. The New Order’s assured security and defense, in exchange for new recruits and Arkanis water to bolster Coruscant’s ecosystem. After all, the Outer Rim planet had more than enough of it.

Hux absently watched the rain fall until his datapad pinged with another message. Startling, he set down the glass, and cursed when he saw the time. The message confirmed what he’d thought: Ren was landing. Fuck. Well, there was no time to prepare himself or anything else. He shoved the bottle and its glass back into the sideboard and straightened his tunic.

His praetorian guard fell into step behind him as he left the office. “It’s Ren,”he told their captain, stepping into the turbolift and reluctantly allowing them to crowd around him. “You can leave me at the foyer, I’ll meet him on the platform.”

“But sir–"

“You have your orders, caption.”

He couldn’t see her face behind the smooth helmet, but she was probably scowling. Captain Yyn held no candle to Phasma, but she was loyal and she was professional, though her standing had taken a blow the last time he’d gone off with Ren with little notice. Not that it’d been her fault that he’d vanished for five hours only to reappear fuming at the steps of the Jedi Temple, calling for a pickup. Loath as he was to admit it, for all their training, loyalty was a tricky thing, especially once people climbed up the ladder and started getting a taste for power. So far, Yyn had proven herself to be true only to him, and that made her incredibly valuable.

They arrived on the lower level of the private landing pad, the guards taking up position at various points around the foyer. For a moment, Hux found himself hesitating at the entrance. This wasn’t like standing at attention in the hanger bay of the _Finalizer_ , watching Ren’s TIE silencer land. In fact he now felt a little ridiculous, coming out to meet Ren instead of waiting for the man to come up to meet him instead, in his office, where Hux’s power was clear.

The sudden loud rush of a ship passing above him ruffled his hair, and then it was too late to go back in anyway.

The TIE Silencer settled on the landing pad with the grace and lightness of a bird of prey, and Hux waited, leaning with one shoulder against the door. He straightened as the cockpit unsealed with a hiss, and throwing his shoulders back, sauntered out to the ship. Even if Ren picked it from his mind, it wouldn’t do to be too obvious about how he no longer didn’t quite hate the sight of him.

“Supreme Leader,” he greeted the younger man at the first sight of Ren’s unruly mop of dark hair. It had grown even longer in his absence, falling past his shoulders. Ren was frowning at something on his dashboard, but he turned when he saw Hux, and corners of his lips curled in the slightest smile.

“Chancellor,” he replied. “You’ve come to meet me.”

Hux clasped his hands behind his back, planting his feet in parade rest. Old habits. It turned out for all his anticipation, there was a still a more cautious side of him that bristled warily at the sight of Ren, and Hux wasn’t quite so far gone as to ignore it. “I didn’t want to find you lurking behind my drapes again,” he said. “You’ve been gone a while. I’m sure you’d appreciate a longer, more official stay this time.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow. His smile broadened into a smirk. “Is that so, Chancellor?” he drawled, leaning out of the cockpit with his elbow braced on the edge.

“Work!” snapped Hux, refusing to be flustered. “You’re the Supreme Leader, you can't just spend your time gallivanting around the edges of the galaxy. Maybe it’s time to learn how things actually run here.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what to do, Chancellor,” said Ren lightly. He leapt to his feet, and Hux took a cautious step back. “It’s only by my grace that you’re where you are now.”

 _Your grace_. “Of course, Supreme Leader,” he murmured, though he didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll as he inclined his head. Ren noticed it but he said nothing more, and jumped from his cockpit, landing lightly and gracefully on his feet as his robes fluttered dramatically—far too dramatically considering the slight humidity in the air and the lack of any breeze—about him.

“So you’ve missed me?”

Hux snorted. “Like a cankerous sore.” It was easier, this time, to fall back into their old banter. Up close he noted the dark shadows under Ren’s eyes, the sallow tint to his skin. He seemed worn thin the way he hadn’t been in a while, not since he’d ascended Snoke’s throne.

“The Resistance running you ragged?” he ventured to ask.

“The Resistance is ended,” said Ren sharply. “We don’t have to worry about them any more.”

Hux raised his eyebrows at the claim. “So the Jedi is dead? Dameron and the traitor? We need to be careful Ren, even without your mother, these three are the Resistance’s rallying points. Until they are gone, we can never be certain–"

“They’re done,” said Ren, his tone rising. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it–"

“I will worry!” snarled Hux. “You’re forgetting these are the very people who infiltrated Starkiller Base, you say the girl killed Snoke, yet you do not seem to fear that she might do the same to you. Dammit, Ren, we can’t risk this, not after everything!”

“Hux!” Ren’s voice cut through his rant, and Hux fell silent, chest tight. So much for his anticipation. He should’ve known better than to expect the best, and he braced himself, waiting for that invisible hold to close about his neck.

To his surprise, Ren simply shouldered past him, sending him stumbling a few paces back across the still wet platform. Hux watched him go, then seized by a sudden fury, stalked after him. Dimly he was aware that self-preservation did not advise chasing after a dangerous, irritated Force-user, but Hux was tired of this banthashit.

“Listen here, Ren–"

“Hux!”

Hux fell back, Ren’s roar ringing in his ears. The snap-hiss of Ren’s lightsaber cut through the faint noise of traffic, its blood-red light bouncing off the evaporating puddles of rain on the platform, close enough that he could smell its ozone. "Ren!" he cried, arm coming up instinctively between them, though it would offer no protection against the energy. "Ren, what in the–"

Something stung his cheek, just at the curve of his jaw. The pain started as a pinprick, before it spread like wildfire, burning a line towards his ear.

"Fuck!" he heard Ren swearing, over the echo of his frantic heartbeat pounding through his skull. He wasn't dead yet. He wasn't dead yet.

Good.

Years of training drilled into his head took over then. Even months of cushy Core life couldn't take that out of him. He pulled out his blaster from its holster, though there was no enemy he could see. Even Ren was spinning about, lightsaber raised defensively, trying to pinpoint the location of the shooter.

"Get down," he snarled, when he saw Hux draw his weapon. "They're using slugthrowers."

That explained the throbbing burn along Hux's jaw. Ren's lightsaber had melted the slug, sending molten slag flying. It meant that their assassins knew what they were doing. Knew who they were targeting and what measures to take against them.

"Get off the kriffing platform," Ren shouted, moving his solid bulk in front of Hux and shunting him back towards the entrance of the hanger. "I'll–" He grunted suddenly, and fell back, collapsing back against Hux hard enough to knock the blaster from his grip. It skidded to the edge of the platform, too far to risk going for it, not when safety was the quickest option.

"Fuck," Hux swore. The burn along his jaw felt like it was razing its way up his face. Something trickled down his chin; it could be blood, could be the softening drizzle of rain. He spun for the doors, ready to make a break for it before the assassin attempted a third shot, then hesitated.

Ren lay motionless on the ground. Blood was puddling under him, mixing with the rain, and Hux found himself thrown back to the memory of the final moments of Starkiller. Of retrieving Ren on Snokes' orders, finding him facedown in the snow, bleeding out. Of dragging him back to the ship before the planet blew around them.

Like back then, he'd probably be better off leaving him behind. Ren had shown no gratitude for his rescue then, gone on to demonstrate exactly what he thought of Hux and his work. Even now, he was still making things difficult, this irredeemably stubborn steer of a man. For the briefest moment, the fantasy stretched ahead before him—a universe where it was just him, with all the worlds at his feet. A galaxy of peace and prosperity. All he had to do was run.

"Kriffing Sith hell," he muttered, seized Ren by one arm, and prayed he wasn't going to regret this later. Something tumbled from Ren’s grip—his lightsaber, now extinguished—and Hux grabbed that too, though he knew now it would do nothing against their attackers, not unless they actually came within reach. He hefted the familiar weight of it in his hand, then clipped it to his belt. He needed two hands for this.

Hux couldn’t believe he was doing this again. It’d been bad enough on Starkiller Base, hauling Ren’s groaning arse to the ship as the planet collapsed around them. He’d been about as useless then too, breathing heavily against Hux’s neck, as his boneless weight threatened to drag them both down to the crumbling ground. At least here Coruscant wasn’t about to fall apart under their feet, but ever aware of a possibility of another shot meeting its mark, Hux stumbled along with a similar sense of urgency.

The durasteel floor of the landing platform was still slick with rain, and his boots found little traction. The heavy weight of his surcoat, now damp with Ren’s blood, didn’t help, but he was loath to shuck it off. To stop moving would make them both an easy target, and he was reluctant to separate himself from the liquid armor integrated into the fabric, especially with his back so vulnerable. Besides, he’d already hauled Ren through worse. And he had guards, he recalled belatedly. "Guards!" he bellowed. He was the kriffing chancellor, where were his guards?

“Guards!” And there they were, rushing towards him, crowding around him, shielding him with their bodies, too little too late. Someone tried to take Ren’s limp form from him and Hux’s lips peeled back in a snarl as he pulled Ren tighter against his side. “Useless lump,” he growled, finally dragging Ren past the threshold and into safety. “I should dump your sad carcass over the edge.” A delayed alarm was blaring in the background and another squad of armoured troops rushed past. It was almost like being back on the Finalizer, amidst combat.

Back in the relative safety of the foyer, Hux dropped Ren onto a low couch and pulled his monomolecular knife out of its sheath. Ren's heavy tunic parted easily under the blade, and he ripped the pieces apart to inspect the damage. Though he'd trained for such scenarios, he'd never actually fought against enemies armed with slugthrowers, nor had he seen the wounds such weapons inflicted. The slugs—the bullets—they could have gone straight through Ren, or they could still be in him. One had hit him high in the chest. Punctured a lung, judging from the harsh sucking sound of his breathing.

There was another further down that must have gone through, based on the amount of blood leaking from the wound. Hux shrugged off his surcoat, and tore out the inner lining to staunch the bleeding. It and his hands were quickly soaked in blood.

"Where are the medics?" he hissed at Captain Yyn, who was still trying to pull him away. He wound one hand into Ren’s cloak, grabbing him, the other still pressed against the wound

"We’re meeting them in your private maglev. We need to move." She tried to pry his fingers from Ren's shoulder but he dug them in until they bruised. "Chancellor! Be reasonable. Let my men take him. We need to get you both somewhere safe."

"Yes," Hux muttered distractedly. _Be reasonable!_ echoed in his head. He was. He prided himself on being a man of reason, but something about Ren tended to drive him far from it. He released the unconscious man and absently wiped his bloody hand on his torn surcoat. The captain helped him to his feet, and gestured for two others to take Ren. They slapped pressure bandages over his wounds, then seized him under the armpits and draped his arms over their shoulders. Ren's head lolled, his feet dragged as they bustled deeper underground. What was wrong with him? Surely it would take more than just two rounds from a slugthrower to fell him.

Stars, it would be just like Ren to die on him like this. After Hux once again risked his life to save him. After he'd just decided to put up with all of him—the moodiness, the instability. Somehow he'd become fucking _fond_ of the man.

The next time this happened, though, he was going to leave Ren to die. There were only so many times one could be expected to put one's back out lugging Ren's rudely large body to safety.

He allowed himself to be hustled to the turbolift. Bodies pressed around him, crowding him. The smell of blood soon became overwhelming in the narrow space, especially after emergency measures cut the ventilation in the lifts, in case of poison.

He found himself unable to pull his eyes away from Ren’s slack features, now more pale than sallow, his hair hanging limp and thick over half his face. He needed a haircut. After a wash. After surgery and a stint in the bacta tank. At least he was still breathing, though the open end of the occlusive bandage they’d slapped on his chest fluttered disturbingly with each inhale.

“You!” he barked at the guard supporting Ren. “When you can, get him on a stretcher. The Supreme Leader shouldn’t be lugged around like a sack of tubers.”

“Yessir.”

He rounded impatiently on Yyn, almost stumbling into her. “How much farther?”

“Once we’re in your maglev, sir, ten minutes.”

“That’s not good enough,” he muttered, and found, very suddenly, that he had to sit down. He leaned against something, realising belatedly it was someone’s armoured leg instead of the wall he’d assumed it was.

Someone had their hands on him, sliding along his torso, and he lashed out with a fist, drawing his knees protectively up towards his chest. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

The hands moved back. Someone else crouched down before him, then the featureless praetorian helmet was pulled off to reveal Yyn’s face. Her cropped hair was growing out. It was red too, a few shades darker than his. It clashed terribly with her armour.

“Chancellor,” she said patiently. “You’ve been injured.”

“You mean Ren,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding, sir,” she said gesturing. She was rummaging under her cloak and Hux groped instinctively first for his blaster, then for his knife. Both were gone. He’d left them behind, now several hundred floors above them.

“Fuck.”

“It’s just a bandage, sir,” she said, and she was telling the truth, the pressure bandage stark white against her red armour. “I need to put this over the wound.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” he snapped irritably. Awareness of his injury brought with it pain, adrenaline replaced with exhaustion. It’d been a long time since he’d been so hopped up with it that he hadn’t noticed that he’d also been shot. He worked his jaw. The burn there stung horribly, almost more so than the throbbing ache in his side, but he could still speak. At worst, the damage was cosmetic. Ren, when he awoke, would probably find it funny that Hux was now marked with a similar facial scar. Hux scowled at the thought, aggravating the burn, and pushed himself upright. Only sheer stubbornness helped him get his feet back under him, with some help from the wall and some overenthusiastic hands trying to grab him under the arms. Snarling, he jerked back and almost fell over again.

“Hux!” said Yyn, and the unexpected informal address caught him short. She caught his eyes with her own dark ones. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

It made sense now that all the blood on his tunic wasn’t Ren’s alone, though he couldn’t find a rent in the cloth. Yyn helped him peel back the layers of clothing, and peering down, he caught a hint of brass before she taped the thick dressing down over his skin.

“Was that–"

“Yes, sir,” she said, taking a moment to put her helmet back on. His blood left dark streaks against the bright plasteel. “Doesn’t look too deep, you’ll be fine.”

“Make sure to have it analysed once they’d extracted it,” he told her. “We need to make sure we find whoever was behind this attack.”

“Already on it, sir. I have people covering the landing bay, and we’ve already pinpointed where the shooter was.”

“Good.” The turbolift jolted to a stop, and this time he didn’t push away the arm that came around him when he legs gave way. “Emergency Protocol Nineteen, Captain, you know how it goes.”

“Yes, I do, sir.”

They hauled him and Ren into the maglev, and he watched as they strapped Ren down on a crash cart. They insisted he too lie down on a hovergurney they’d also brought out for him, and he resisted, until a medic—one he recognized from the _Finalizer_ , which meant she had some experience with him, to his chagrin—threatened him with a sedative. “Give me a datapad,” he ordered one of the guards. The guard’s expressionless helmet turned to Yyn.

“Give it to him,” she said with a shrug. “It’ll ensure he stays put.”

So it seemed his notoriety in the medical wing had made it down to lower ranks. “Anything you’ve heard about me is patently untrue,” he said. He had to wipe his bloody hands on a spare bandage before the datapad would accept his input.

Despite his protests, they took it away from him when they reached the safehouse, bringing both him and Ren to the attached state-of-the-art medbay. Much to his vexation, he was put under for surgery, despite the medics’ insistence that his injuries were fairly minor, and when he groggily came to again, he was greeted by Yyn’s unmasked face, her brow creased in thought as she poured over a datapad, chewing on what looked like a energy bar.

“Can I have that?” he croaked, feeling a little twinge of smug satisfaction when she twitched.

“Sir!” She held up her hand before her mouth, as though she thought he’d be offended by seeing her chewing. After swallowing, she took her hand away. “Which, sir?” She held up first the datapad, then the half-eaten energy bar.

Hux rolled his eyes. Amazing how familiar people got with you once they saw you bleeding. Phasma had been the same, though it had taken her all of one day. And that was after she’d given Hux a bloody nose on the training mat.

“The pad.” He snapped his fingers at her, indicating to her to hurry. Though some food was probably a good idea, he hadn’t eaten since...he wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he’d eaten. “An energy stimpak while you’re at it.”

“I don’t think the medics would advise that, sir.”

“I’ve given you an order, Captain.”

She rose and handed him the datapad, but then sat back down, pulling her helmet back over her head. It wasn’t very smart, to keep relying on that plasteel bucket to hide her expressions and manage her emotions, but her feelings were also irrelevant to the situation.

“The stims.”

“They contraindicate your current medications, sir. Nor am I at liberty to dispense any sort of medication or stimulant.”

Hux hissed out a long breath through his teeth. It’d been worth a try. “How’s Ren?”

“The Supreme Leader came out of surgery three and a half hours ago. They’ve put him in bacta, he’ll be out in two more.”

“Okay,” said Hux. “Remind the medics he’s to be sedated when he’s removed. The last time was...messy.” Bacta everywhere. Broken droids. Another headache layered onto Hux’s migraine to the point where his eyes had watered from the pain. Under all that, the deep dark anxiety of awaiting the repercussions for losing Starkiller Base.

Hux closed his eyes, and let his head fall back against his thin pillow. This time it was different. “Get me out of here,” he muttered. “There’s a suite here, yes? Take me there. And when the Supreme Leader is out of bacta, bring him there too.”

Three hours later, the chime in his private suite rang. Captain Yyn hesitated at the door when she saw him behind his desk, but said nothing as she stepped aside to allow a pair of medical droids to pass. With them they had a hoverstretcher on which Ren lay, still sedated, now cleaned up and dressed in white medical scrubs that made him look like a corpse. Hux pursed his lips, then nodded towards the bedroom. “Put him there.”

The droids followed without comment, but Yyn once again seemed hesitant. “But Chancellor–"

“You ask too many questions, Captain,” Hux said warningly. “Ren will be fine here. The spare room is yours. You can rest, but make sure to be available when I have need of you.”

The modulator on her helmet hissed as she drew in a breath, but she said nothing else, bowing shortly, then standing at attention until the droids had finished their ministrations and left the room. The door hissed shut behind her, and finally Hux was alone with Ren.

Hux rose slowly from behind his desk. Painkillers and the stims he had finally managed to get his hands on meant that his wounds didn’t hurt, but the bandage pulled uncomfortably against his skin as he moved.

Datapad still in hand, he walked over to the bedroom. The droids had set Ren up in the room’s only bed, and they’d tucked him between the crisp white sheets with almost military precision. An IV pole stood next to the bed, a saline drip leading into the one arm that lay resting above the blanket.

Hux tossed the datapad down on the free side of the bed, then ambled slowly over to Ren’s. A blinking readout had been strapped to his arm. On it he could read Ren’s vitals and brain activity—all normal. According to the medics one slug had gone through his lung, the other through his midsection, taking out the spleen along the way. Surgery had patched Ren’s lung well enough, though the spleen had to be replaced. The good news was that Ren’s genetic code had already been on file since he’d joined the First Order, so the replacement organ had been swiftly cloned. He was, aside from dehydration, a low blood platelet count, and high level of stimulants in his bloodstream, healthy.

Hux rested his chin in his hand, absently picking at the dermal bandage that covered his lower right jaw. He thought of his decision on the platform, to drag Ren back to safety, when he could just have left that retrieval to the Praetorian Guard. And here he was again, in a situation where he had Ren unconscious and at his mercy...and still he hesitated.

His hand went to his hip, where he’d clipped Ren’s lightsaber during their flight. It now sat on his desk, in the absence of his own, still in his office several sectors and floors away, along with his blade and blaster. It was the only weapon in the room, unless he were to smother Ren with the pillows.

He walked back to the desk and picked it up. Weighed it in his hand. Strange, how he’d gotten so used to the shape and heft of it, so different from a blaster, or from his small knife. The crossguard tipped the balance of Ren’s blade a little to the front, towards the emitter, whereas Hux’s blade—and he had of late, started to consider it as _his_ —was weighted towards the pommel, possibly for striking? He hadn’t tested that out yet.

The blade sprang to life with a hiss, filling the space with it’s harsh red light. It sputtered and shivered in his grip, the crackle of it echoing in his ears. He swung it once, twice, getting used to the different balance of it. Then he brought it down across the corner of the desk. The blade cut through the dark wood with almost no resistance, a chunk of it falling to the floor, glowing edges singing the carpet. Hux watched it smoulder for a moment, then realising with a start the sheer absurdity of what he was doing—how was it that he was now the one slashing up First Order property instead of Ren?—extinguished the ‘saber and quickly put out the embers with the pitcher of water on his desk.

Exhaling in a low hiss, he put the lightsaber back on the desk. Then after making sure nothing else was still burning, he returned to the bedroom.

Ren was awake. He lay in bed, gaze turned towards the ceiling, and when Hux entered, his dark eyes flickered down to him. Hux froze.

“You’re not going to do it,” said Ren.

“No,” said Hux. That probably made him a coward. It definitely made him an idiot. Under Ren’s penetrating gaze he twitched his robe tighter around himself, then moved to the bed.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood, you need it.”

Ren grunted. His lashes fluttered, then he closed his eyes, slowly shifting onto his side, turning his back to Hux.

Hux sat down on the empty side of the bed. The datapad was where he’d tossed it; he set it down on the bedside table, then tugged off his boots. The sheets were cold so he left the robe on. The stims had worn off long ago. He turned the lights down to ten percent, and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Hux, unused to waking with someone else in his bed, woke up trashing. He rolled out of bed scrabbling for a blaster that wasn’t there, tripped over his boots and landed hard on his arse. All the breath whumped out of him. In bed, chewing on a piece of toast, and watching him with all the mild curiosity of a pensive Loth-bison, was Ren.

Hux closed his eyes. Ren was still there when he opened them again, scattering crumbs and printouts all over the sheets.

Rolling onto his side, Hux climbed to his feet, rubbing his aching tailbone. Being in bed with Ren while he was awake wasn’t very appealing, but it was still warm and more comfortable than the armchair across the room. With a huff he slid back under the covers, propping his pillows up between his back and the headboard.

“I had the droids bring your tea,” said Ren between bites. “There’s also caf if you want it.” He gestured with his toast-free hand and Hux looked up to see a tray full of food float through the door.

“What time is it?” he asked, picking it from the air in case Ren tried to do something like upend it into his lap.

“A little after 1400 hours,” said Ren. “You’ve slept around eight hours maybe?”

Hux took a sip of his tea. It was oversteeped the way he liked it, bitter and woodsy, its strong tastes pricking his senses at just the first sip. It did wonders at clearing the cobwebs from his mind, and he turned to study Ren, taking the other man in.

Bandages still peaked over the low neckline of his scrubs. Colour had returned to his face, a healthy flush instead of the sallowness Hux had noted upon his arrival. “Have you had those changed yet?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Ren. “A droid came in when I woke up.”

“Good,” said Hux. He turned his attention to his food. It seemed to be identical to Ren’s, heavy on protein and unnecessary carbohydrates. He picked up his spoon, deciding on the bowl of savoury porridge, before snatching up the datapad from the table.

“Have you talked to Captain Yyn?” he asked, between mouthfuls of porridge.

“Yes.” Ren shuffled together his printouts. For the life of him, Hux would never understand why the man didn’t just use a datapad. “Updates have been sent to you too, you should be able to see them.”

Hux opened his messages. Indeed, the latest report from Yyn and her team were there, including the ballistics taken from the slugs.

“Any idea yet who’s behind this?”

“Hmmm,” began Ren, brushing crumbs from his hands. Hux’s eyes narrowed but he refrained from saying anything. “Black Sun. Possibly.”

“Black Sun,” Hux repeated. He picked up his tray with its half eaten food and set it down on the floor. “Why the fuck would Black Sun try to have you assassinated?”

“What makes you think that was meant for me?” asked Ren. “Mitaka swept in and seized half their territory, and then allied with the Hutts to control that entire sector of the Outer Rim. On your orders, I presume. That’s bound to make you very popular.”

“Yet they chose to assassinate me the very day you arrive?”

“Coincidence.”

“Of course.” Hux sniffed. “And you didn’t entertain the possibility that the Resistance might be behind this?” He recalled their argument on the landing pad, right before the marksman had struck: Ren had been suspiciously evasive about the fate of the Resistance’s remaining leadership.

“You didn’t answer me, back on the landing pad,” he said, swiping through the schematics of the rifle ballistics were theorizing the slugs had been fired from. It wasn’t one he was familiar with—possibly modified? “The Jedi, Dameron, the traitor. With General Organa dead,” —here he felt Ren freeze— “intelligence tells us they’re the new leaders of the Resistance. The Jedi has been leading you around by your nose for years. You can’t just tell me it’s over and leave it at that.”

Ren’s large hands curled in the sheets, pulling the material tight between them. Hux hoped he wasn’t about to tear up the bed. “The girl...will not trouble us,” said Ren, after a moment, with some finality. “Our last encounter did not go well for her. She’s–" he tapped the side of his head "–not a problem.”

“Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Then that is a problem. Look Ren, I don’t know what you have going with that woman, but we cannot just let them flee into Wild Space.” The New Republic had been lax, allowing the Imperial remnant to scatter and flee into the Unknown Region and the outer territories. That had been their downfall. Hux knew better.

“We need to crush them completely. There can be nothing left.”

Ren turned slowly to him. “Is that an order, Chancellor?”

Hux met his gaze defiantly. “Yes.”

“As you wish, Chancellor. I’ll see to it myself.”

Hux stared at him. It was hard to tell if he was facetious. On one hand the Resistance _had_ to be stamped out, for the safety and security of the New Order, and for Hux’s own peace of mind. Then again it was a terrible waste of resources to send the Supreme Leader haring about the fringes of the galaxy, hunting down the rest of them. The galaxy was a vast place. If they’d already disappeared, finding them wasn’t going to be quick or easy. And Ren was like an akk hound with a bone when it came to the Jedi. If he said she was no longer a threat…

He turned back to his datapad, pulling up the profiles of the three Resistance leaders. They had yet to be updated with the latest intelligence; he made a note to schedule Ren for a briefing with New Order security. “My condolences, by the way.”

“What?”

“On your—on Organa’s passing.”

“Oh.” An indecipherable look passed over Ren’s face. Regret, possibly? Hux remembered studying the uncomfortable wet sheen in his eyes during their flight from Starkiller. Patricide had not suited Ren. Would matricide?

Ren’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Kriff, he’d been thinking too loudly. “It wasn’t me,” he growled. His hands roved restlessly over the blanket. “I wasn’t there. But she went the way she would have wanted to. She died a Jedi.”

“Um…” That meant nothing to Hux. “Good?” For lack of anything else to say, he turned back to the profiles.

Ren leaned in, peering at the report over his shoulder, instinctively raising Hux’s hackles. He hated it when people did that, and Ren was one of the few who still dared. “I still say it’s Black Sun.”

Hux snorted. “They weren’t even aiming at me!”

“They still hit you.”

“Yes, right through you. Almost poetic, if one were inclined to such garbage.” He batted Ren’s inquisitive hand away from his side. “It’s fine, it’s only a flesh wound. I’m not the one regrowing a spleen.”

“And your face.”

“A scrape.” His eyes wandered over to Ren’s face, down the scar that cut away from his eye. When he’d first dragged Ren from the snow, he’d thought he’d lost it. But both dark eyes were still there, steadily meeting his gaze. “It won’t scar,” he continued. “Unlike you, I didn’t stop to roll around in the dirt, and got bacta put on it right away.”

“A shame. You don’t want to match?” Ren grinned crookedly, reaching for Hux's face. He hastily swatted that hand away too. Still grinning, Ren settled back against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head.

Hux huffed and gestured impatiently at the screen. “Look, we’ll increase the bounty on their heads. With the entire galaxy on the lookout for them, we’ll know should they ever resurface. I need you here to do some leading for once, Supreme _Leader_.”

“So you _have_ missed me.” Ren lowered an arm, letting it drift down to settle on Hux’s shoulder, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Hux suppressed a shiver but this time didn’t shrug it away. Ren’s hand was very warm through the thin material of his robe.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ren scoffed. “You keep saying that, Hux. Yet you’re the one still here.”

Hux bristled, shoulders rising defensively as he rounded on Ren. “What, did you think I’d turn traitor? After everything I’ve given to the Order? To _you_?”

“What if I tell you I wish to take the throne. Officially. The galaxy will know me as their Supreme Leader—there will be no more hiding in the shadows.”

He leaned in close enough that Hux could see each distinct mole and freckle on his face. “Maybe I’ll even make myself Emperor. Would you still stay, to watch me claim my rightful place?”

“Your rightful place,” Hux repeated flatly. “Was the seat of the Empire ever yours to claim?”

“And was it yours, son of a kitchen wench?”

Hux’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “The Order is mine, do you understand me, Ren?” He fisted his hand in the collar of Ren’s scrubs, pulling the other man closer. A flimsi crunched under his knee. “You will _never_ come close to understanding what it needs. Only I can do that.”

Ren blinked slowly. He had very long lashes. His eyes were very dark, and Hux couldn’t pull his gaze away from them. “Okay,” he rumbled. “Good.”

“What?” Deflating slightly, Hux sat back on his haunches. At some point he’d gotten up on his knees, almost straddling Ren like he was about to throttle him in his anger.

“Good,” repeated Ren. He sounded a little irritated, but not at Hux, judging from how his eyes suddenly darted away. “I need you.”

“Wha–" Hux began weakly, though he caught himself in time, and quickly pulled himself together. His heart had started pounding in his chest. He felt lightheaded, triumphant, something he hadn’t experienced since he’d watched the remains of his father swirl down the drain all those years ago. “Say that again.”

Ren glared, though the force of it was ruined this close, where his scowl looked more like a pout. “I need you. And like you just said, Hux, you need me. We’ll rule together. This Order is ours.”

Hux allowed himself a smirk, but soon lost control of it, mouth splitting into a wide grin.

Ren’s large hand cupped his chin, thumb tracing the edge of the bandage that lined his jaw. “I can’t decide if you smiling like this is creepy or hot.”

Hux bared his teeth at him, then snapped playfully at his fingers. “Find out.” But he pulled back, retreating to his side of the bed, picking up the datapad he had dropped. Ren followed, plucking fretfully at the hem of Hux’s robe.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost a whine. Hux didn’t have to look too hard to recognize he was aroused. Maybe he ought to sit in Ren’s lap more, threaten to bite his overly large ears off.

“We need to have a contract.” Ren pawed at his lap, making it hard to concentrate. He was pretty sure he had misspelled several important items, but he was already working off a sample, and at this point he trusted Ren would not even bother to read it. “Ren! We need to ratify our respective duties. If we are to officially be co-commanders again–"

“You don’t trust me, Hux,” Ren grumbled, sweeping flimsis off his side of the bed. “Even when I'm in your bed.”

“No,” said Hux curtly. He handed Ren the datapad. “This is a quick draft. We of course need to have proper lawyers look it over. But if you sign this, you agree that we will do this.”

“We’ve done this before.” He bumped his head against Hux’s shoulder. “Why do you worry?”

Hux glared down at him. “A planetary base is nothing like ruling an entire galaxy. And when you usurped Snoke, it revealed some of the weaknesses in our power structures. You weren’t there to clean up the mess. We need to make sure this _works_.”

Ren breathed hot against the side of his neck. One of his hands was already fumbling at the waistband of Hux’s pants. “Why are you like this, Hux?” he groaned, but he picked up the stylus and signed the treaty.

“Thank you,” said Hux, saving the document and immediately making multiple copies of it. He set aside the datapad then swung himself back into Ren’s lap so that he could properly devour that plush mouth. Victory. He could get used to the taste of it.

Ren’s large hands moved to his hips, smoothing up the small of his back. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured, kissing his way lazily down Hux's neck. “That you can lead me around by my cock. Is that what you think you’ve been doing this past year?”

Hux twined his fingers through his hair. “It’s worked, hasn’t it?” He tugged lightly, forcing Ren to tip his head back, exposing his throat.

“Too well.” Ren swallowed, and Hux trailed his fingers down the hollow of his throat. “You don’t even want me dead anymore.”

No. No, he didn’t, not that he’d ever admit it. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said, settling into the cradle of Ren’s legs and retracing the path of his fingers with his lips. “If I have to drag you out of one more disaster–"

“Imagine the mess. You hate messes.”

“Ren,” Hux breathed. “ _Ren_. _Kylo_. We have to do this properly.” He cradled his head between his palms. Ren’s gaze was dark and heavy and this time Hux didn’t look away. “Where the Emperor failed—” one man, too arrogant, too foolish, “—there’s two of us now, we can keep the balance. Kylo, we can make this work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my wonderful artist, M. Lang, who created some absolutely gorgeous art for this work, and was the greatest pleasure to work with. Thank you! ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> And many thanks to the mods of the Kylux Big Bang 2020, for facilitating this challenge. It's been great! 🖤🧡


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